


Dracula

by Twilight_Rose



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9367970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Rose/pseuds/Twilight_Rose
Summary: This is the first attempt at this story. Will likely be edited multiple times in the future. MA/NSFW piece.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first attempt at this story. Will likely be edited multiple times in the future. MA/NSFW piece.

Aubrey Dawkins came home to her cold, vacant flat, the rooms dark, and the sky even darker. She lit up a cigarette and shivered, using her free hand to pull the fur of her hood snug around her neck. Her hand trembled as she held the poisonous article, causing a heaving sigh to leave her mouth. The breath she exhaled was visible, prompting her to quickly walk to the kitchen, and turn on the radiators.   
  
Once they were on, and beginning to heat up, the woman took a deep drag of her chosen vice and sighed. She was hungry, freezing and miserable. Her  _flat_  wasn’t a ‘flat’ at all. It was a  _box_ , a highly overpriced box at that. That ‘London is more expensive’ shtick rang in her mind.  
  
 _How true. I despise that. I can’t work enough fucking hours, nor is there enough hours in the workweek worthy of this, this abysmal space. A pitiful excuse for a ‘flat’._  
  
In retrospect, she only chose the flat she currently resided in due to it’s location. It was only a ten minute tube ride to and from work, which she was immensely grateful as overcrowding on each train carriage made the journey  _hell_. A  _hot_  and  _sweaty_  hell. The phrase ‘packed in like sardines’ certainly rang true.

* * *

Aubrey worked for a small printing company. Authors, aspiring ones, who were turned down at other publishing houses often went to hers. They’d be accepted and their work printed. The varying forms of work she’d perused had her either shaking her head or smirking. Most were at either end of the  _extreme_ , verging on disgustingly _violent_ , distasteful, gratuitous  _violence_ for the sake of it.  
  
Others were  _smut_ , dirty and simple, for the base minded, which, Aubrey did not mind admitting that she could be herself. Those provided a type of fantasy when she was alone, her orgasm a testament to how well she knew her own body and  _not_ the source material...

* * *

Her flats saving graces were the view, which at the back, overlooked a wooded park. It gave some seclusion, but, it came with noise, local children. When they were  _happy_ , enjoying their playtime, Aubrey didn’t mind that. Its when they began  _screaming_  their little lungs out that the woman wished to  _tear_  out her hair, her womb along with it. She’d never tried to have children, nor did she want too. The world didn’t need any more of  _her_  in it. She couldn’t afford them either. She’d end up another parent scrapping by, starving themselves to feed their child.   
  
That  _wasn’t_   _her._  There  _were_  days she’d gone without food, it certainly wasn’t by  _choice_ , but by _necessity_.   
  
And, those days? She was thoroughly miserable, her stomach never ceasing its complaining, its voice refusing to be quietened.

* * *

The other upside to her place of residence was she was allowed pets. She’d wanted to get a cat from a shelter for some time now, but knew she couldn’t. Money, and the fact that her home practically turned into a walk-in  _freezer_ in long Winter days meant that the cat would likely freeze to death. Bundling up blankets only did so much to combat the chill. Aubrey found that out the hard way.

* * *

The woman cursed again aloud as her hand shook, skin translucent white due to cold. She needed coffee, despite it being the evening, and knowing it may well keep her awake. She took off her boots, wriggling her feet when they touched the floorboards. Fluffy socks, a Christmas gift from ‘Secret Santa’ at work too big, she had to put several pairs on underneath, just to get them to stay on her feet scrapped the floor, the sound akin to nails on a chalkboard. The sound went through her as she shuffled to the coat rack, hanging up the garment in a hurry.  Throwing off her gloves, one landing haphazardly on the couch, the other flying under it, Aubrey entered the kitchenette for a much needed cup of caffeine.   
  
The  _stronger_ , the  _better_...

* * *

A quick peruse of the cupboards yielded hot chocolate, not what she was looking for. It would do though, all it requiring hot water. She filled the kettle and pressed the little plastic button with the thought. Simple, effective at warming her icy soul, and tasting like Heaven.  
  
 _If_  she believed any of that, which she  _didn’t_. She’d heard the Heavenly realm was filled with  _pleasures_ , and, as she saw chocolate as a pleasure, it gained ‘Heavenly’ status with her. It was a  _vice_ , along with smoking, she likely ate too much of the sweet confectionery, though, her waistline had long been forgotten as a worry. Far more important things were worry worthy like bills, rent, food, electricity, hot water. These things she took for granted, as did many. They were  _luxuries_ , whether she liked to admit it or not.

* * *

 

The kettle clicked, steam billowing out. Aubrey snapped from her thoughts, realising she hadn’t gotten a cup for her drink. She sighed, grabbed one from the drainer, giving it a quick wash.The little hot chocolate powder left was poured into the ‘funny’ slogan mug, water added, and a spoon to stir.   
  
Powder swirled around, the water turning mahogany. Aubrey idly swished patterns in the liquid, leaning on the kitchen counter. She got paid at midnight, an odd, useless time. She couldn’t go shopping then when she sorely  _needed_  too. A few cup noodles, milk, a bottle of Grey Goose on it’s last dregs, some bread, butter and jam were the entire contents of her kitchen. She was down to a few pieces of toilet roll and sanitary items too. Picking up the cup, Aubrey walked over to the couch, found the errant sock and placed it with the other. 

* * *

As she sipped the beverage, heated cocoa blossoming in her mouth, she  _almost_  considered adding the Grey Goose too it. That would dilate her blood vessels, making her feel even  _warmer_. The effect would be temporary however, and likely give her heartburn. So, she scrapped the idea, choosing instead to burrow into what she called a ‘ _throw_ ’ blanket, that, if anyone looked at it, they’d call a tattered ‘ _attempt_ ’ at one.   
  
Her mouth was sweet, but life certainly  _wasn’t_...


	2. Chapter 2

Aubrey hurried back from shopping, already ten minutes late to leave for work. She quickly put away her groceries, grabbed her rail card, and left her flat.

* * *

Whilst on the tube, she dawdled, huffing out her displeasure at having her face virtually  _shoved_  up someone else's armpit. Luckily, for her and the people around them, the man had chosen to use that ever _elusive_  item she seldom smelt on people anymore.  _Deodorant_. To try and ease her cramped woes, she stuck a hand into her purse, dug around and pulled out her phone, finding she had a message. A  _dating_  app message.

Partly ashamed of joining up, she hid the screen as best she could. No prying eyes over her shoulder would see her personal profile, which she knew was ironic, as many would already have looked at it, just  _online_ , not in _public_. She shook her head of the intrusive thoughts, sweeping her thumb over the unlock bar to read the message.

* * *

She'd been chatting on and off to a man named Greg. He seemed the quiet sort, the type who doesn't say much with words. Rather,  _actions_. He became  _obsessive_  with these actions however, sending her virtual flowers, moving cutesy animal pictures, ever increasing in stature hearts, and, to her horror, along with a little  _amusement_ , an 'abs' picture. She knew immediately it wasn't  _his_  stomach from a picture he had of him, standing in between two of his friends in a bar, his gut a  _prominent_  feature. She told him that, whilst flattered by the attention (she wasn't, but wasn't about to tell him that), she wasn't interested. That she was sorry, and hoped he found someone. He did not take this well. He believed that since he had done all this 'work', in his words, ' _catch her_ ', she  _should_  reciprocate. She had said no many times, before ignoring him and not logging on to the app for a few weeks.

When she returned a few nights back, Greg was on her like a fly on a fresh pile of  _shit_. Aubrey  _knew_  she should have hit the block button, she had the guts too, she just didn't really think of it at the time.

* * *

She glanced at the message, deciding once and for all to block him after doing so.

It simply read:

'U owe me a lot. I could of ignored you, but you chose to do that to me. I now your type. You just take, take, take, and that's it. When I want somethin in return, you leave. So, only you matter here, huh? Selfish witch. Now I know why your single'.

Aubrey smirked, teetering on the edge of laughter. Now he knew why _she_  was single? More like now she knew why  _he_  was. If he wanted a woman, this  _wasn't_  how you treated them, spoke to them. His obvious lack of grammar skills should have had her indicators blaring. She wasn't one that someone had to be in MENSA for her to even  _look_  at them, but, they had to have some brain cells in their noggin to stand a chance. If they came across as deluded, stupid, or just plain nasty, Aubrey wouldn't give them the time of day.

Perhaps  _this_  was why she was single. Her standards were not high, but not low either.

* * *

She didn't want the ' _preppy, innocent_ ' type, she'd corrupt them easily.

She didn't want the ' _I am a god, women bow down to me_ ' type either. They just made her laugh at them until they walked off, clearly upset that their 'wiles' hadn't worked. That their ' _charm offensive_ ' failed. She wouldn't let them pull down her knickers and screw her in some dingy alley somewhere, or a cheap hotel room.

Did she even  _have_  a type, she pondered.

_Someone who can handle me for once. Someone educated, though not stuck up about it. A sense of humor, preferable vulgar, or they'll think me a rude degernate. Literate, likes the arts perhaps. A well-kept appearance, not too much, vanity is a turn off. Not so little that they look like a caveman. Medium build, eye, skin and hair colour doesn't matter._

Money? She was in  _sore_  need of that, as were most people. However, she would not date a man simply for what was in his wallet. That wasn't proper, and it wasn't  _her_.

* * *

She scanned the app, and, having no more matches, she took one last look at ' _Mr Lover Lover'_ s' profile, allowing herself a small smile of victory before hitting the block button.

She had a feeling the little button would become her new best friend...

* * *

Aubrey grabbed a coffee from Starbucks before boarding the tube home. Hazelnut and toffee latte, a decadent feast for the senses, a treat for herself. Likely more calories than she cared to admit, and more sugar than she thought too. She inhaled the delicious steam the beverage gave off. It took her mind off the fact that despite it being rush hour, the carriage she was on was surprisingly empty. Taking  _full_  advantage of that, she placed her bag on the seat beside her and allowed herself that little bit  _extra_  arm and leg room.

* * *

The walk home from the station took five minutes on a  _good_  day. This  _wasn't_  a good day. Pedestrians were  _crammed_  in, squished next to each other, covering the entirety of the pavement and road. Cars blared their horns, their drivers angry, red in the face. Shouting matches ensued, greeting the woman's ears as she tried to maneuver her way through the crowd.

Stupidly, she looked at the floor, not in the direction she should. She bumped into a man. This jolted her head up. Her eyes widened as the honey liquid in her cup sloshed, threatening to spill over. She jumped, and used her hand to stop the liquid from splatting onto the floor. She burnt her hand in the process, shaking it and swearing repeatedly. She barely looked at the person she had bumped into, muttering a quick apology, before moving past the man.

It was only when she moved past him that she saw his eyes. As blue as a cloudless sky,  _sharp_. He looked deeply into hers, despite the contact only being for a split second, she  _shivered_. She carefully maneuvered herself around him, her back hitting the door of a red telephone box. She shook her head, and walked away, blowing and sipping her coffee. She felt confused, thoroughly embarrassed and her hand stung, the skin red and blistered.

The man tipped his head as the woman scurried away. He turned on his heel and promptly walked away.

* * *

Aubrey sprinted up the stairs to her flat, placing her coffee on top of the banister once she got to her door. Hands blindly searched for her keys on her coat pockets. She smacked her face as she realise they were in an inner pocket, not an outer one. She pulled the zip down, shoved a hand into the little pocket and pulled out her keys. She sighed, willed herself to move, open the door and walk in. It was only at the the last second she remembered her coffee cup. She took a hold of it and shut the door behind her.

* * *

A gurgling stomach reminded her to turn on the oven. She did so, and drained the last of her coffee. The heating was turned on next, as the woman wanted a bath. She was off tomorrow, and then, it was the weekend. She had no plans, no company, though, she did have her mind, and that  _could_  serve for both...

* * *

She removed her jacket, hung it up, placed her bag on the couch and sat down. Pulling her laptop off the table, and setting the charger next to it, she turned it on, casually grabbing the TV remote and flicking that on. Only repeats and trashy programs were airing that night, positively boring the woman. She turned off the TV and turned her attention to the laptop screen. Her screensaver popped up, a picture of her Mother and her when she was little. Aubrey caught herself smiling, she always did when she saw that photo.

* * *

Then came her apps, the standard antivirus, malware, paint, Word, the odd game or two, (she'd become quite the pro at solitaire), and a folder full of submitted pieces for work. She'd much rather sort out her work files at home rather than the office. The office was either a hive of activity, or so dead, you could use it as a morgue and no one would  _notice_. At least at home, she could be bored in her  _own_  space...

* * *

She perused the folder, having seen a piece in a small magazine about an upcoming writer, Olivia Dumaine. Aubrey opened her sub-folder and reread the first chapter of her novel. It was good, really good. grammatically, punctually, coherent, cohesive sentences flowed elegantly, never a missed beat in description or context. Aubrey got the impression that Olivia would become big, go far, and she felt ecstatic for her. It made a change from the usual drivel she was sent, that much was certain.

* * *

Twenty minutes of scrolling later, the oven was at temperature. Aubrey quickly decided on chicken, with garlic potatoes and herb vegetables. She got everything she needed and began cooking her meal.

* * *

During dinner, a message popped up in her inbox, a signature ping on arrival. Aubrey set down her plate, but kept the fork in her mouth, chewing on it methodically. It was from her boss, Margot, telling her of a recent article in a small, niche magazine. A column about a 'Daniel Hurst'. Aubrey read the email, then clicked on the link. The picture of Daniel on the page took her by surprise. It was the man she had bumped into earlier.

Or  _was_  it? She couldn't be sure, she did not look at him for more than a few seconds at most, not a long period of time to gauge facial features and what not. She read the page, and discovered he worked in the London Library in St James' Square. He wished to be published by her company, and had contacted Margot. They were to meet for talks later that week, and Margot wanted Aubrey to be there, to prepare all the relevant paperwork and detail for the application process. Aubrey replied that she would attend and that, judging from the article, Daniel sounded an interesting fellow. She then looked him up, and found he had written poems, literature, and had given a few lectures in his life. Aubrey was intrigued.

  
She also wanted to apologise properly for careering into him like a headless chicken. If she was one thing, it was fastidious, and fastidious people did  _not_  walk around, blindly bumping into people, like a rampaging bull in a china shop...


	3. Chapter 3

Aubrey filed paperwork neatly under their alphabetised sections when she got the page.  
  
'Mr Hurst is here. Shouldn't _someone_ be there to greet him maybe?"  
  
The receptionist, Savannah had taken to caustic wit in her messages, something Aubrey didn't care for. Her boss was late to a potentially 'huge', lucrative deal, if this 'Mr Hurst' was as interesting and different as the critics that reviewed his work claimed.  
  
Another Morse Code style beep came from the small grey box in Aubrey's hand.  
  
"Like, _now_ would be good. Seriously, the guy is waiting. The _fuck_ is the hold up?"  
  
Grey eyes widened, the older replied:  
  
"Say that again, and I'll have your _cement-face_ thrown out. 'Seriously', what's with using your foundation like its cement? Watch you don't _crack_ the facade now".  
  
She placed the pager in the desk of her drawer, uncaring for the inevitably _bitchy_ reply she'd receive...

* * *

"Apologies for the wait, Mr Hurst", Aubrey said, as she got to the bottom stair, "My boss is"...she had _no_ idea where her boss was, "her flight was delayed. She is flying home as we speak, but will be rather _late_ ". An on the spot lie that the man seemed to take. Blue eyes scanned hers, a nod of acknowledgement followed.  
  
"That is fine, delays are _inevitable_ ".  
  
Aubrey felt the need to raise her brows at that. She fought past it, offering a hand.  
  
"Aubrey, Aubrey Dawkins, Ms Parsons' secretary".  
  
The man nodded. "Daniel, Daniel Hurst".  
  
He shook her hand, gesturing towards her boss' office door. "Shall we?"  
  
Aubrey nodded, turning on her heels, letting the man past her.

* * *

Aubrey flicked on the kettle after entering the office, something done so often, it had become automatic, even if when she asked if anyone wanted a drink, they'd decline the offer.  
  
"Would you like a drink? We have coffee and a variety of teas. Margot enjoys herbal blends".  
  
The man perused the small colourful boxes before him.  
  
"Assam, please".  
  
Aubrey took a small grey mug, smiling at the use of please. She felt manners were going out of fashion, a shame, in her view.  
  
"One Assam tea coming up". She picked up the yellow tea box, depositing a bag into the cup.  
  
"Good to hear manners still exist, I feel people think them unnecessary. Being an arsehole is the norm, and", she smirked a little, "whilst I can be as such _myself_ at times, manners are _important_ to me".  
  
Daniel agreed. "The proverbial _arsehole._ Ah, I can be one myself, but, manners are very much necessary. I was brought up well educated, _well-mannered_ ".  
  
The secretary tried to recall the article she'd read, wondering if it had his age. She assumed, from looking at him he was late thirties, perhaps early forties. She being a similar age was brought up the same way.  
  
"It's refreshing to meet someone else who isn't stuck up, arrogant. Many 'wannabe' authors, people blaming younger people, but, it's people of all ages that believe their work is the next best thing _since_ sliced bread".  
  
"I _am_ arrogant, I just don't feel the need to shout it from the rooftops".  
  
Aubrey smirked. "Vain and or _arrogant_?"  
  
"Two sides of the same coin. One believes they are, the other believes _and_ proclaims it".  
  
Aubrey changed tack, seeing if it flummoxed the man, _flustered_ him.  
  
It didn't...

* * *

"Hurst, huh? Makes me think of Tamlyn Hurst and my favourite piece of his, Arabesque. A linear, yet glum, _haunting_ piece".  
  
Aquamarine eyes almost glittered with amusement.  
  
"Yes, because my Mother scoured the planet in search of a man with the surname _Hurst_ ".  
  
Aubrey barely masked a laugh.  
  
" _Sharp_ , aren't you? That's good. Most 'wannabe' writers act that way, but lose that facade quickly when they realise I'm _not_ falling for it".  
  
Daniel nodded. "Certain generations believe they are _superior_ to ones previous. They are brighter, more accepting of differences, various nuances of the populace. I've", he stopped, thinking on years past, "seen much in my years. The generation I am from was far less", the word he wished to use may not have gone down well, so, he paused again, " _abrupt_. Cold. It looks to me as if _ignoring_ your surroundings and the people in them is the norm in this day and age".  
  
Aubrey tilted her head.  
  
 _This day and age?_ _Was I wrong in my age prediction? He speaks much older than what I thought._  
  
Daniel let the wry turn of his lips that wished to show itself for a while paint his mouth.  
  
"Another confused person. I have a _habit_ of baffling people".  
  
Aubrey tried to regain ground, blinking rapidly.  
  
"Not at all. I have not heard someone speak the _way_ you do, is all. Baffling me is much _harder_ than you'd believe".  
  
The turn became a smirk. Aubrey returned it until she saw the office door move from the corner of her vision. Margot had arrived.  
  
The younger stood, and moved from the desk. Daniel picked up the cup and sipped the slightly tart liquid within.  
  
"Mr Hurst?"  
  
Aubrey moved toward the door.  
  
"Daniel, please, Mrs Parsons".  
  
The skin around Margot's eyes crinkled as she smiled.  
  
Daniel extended a hand.  
  
"Margot, S'il vous plaît".  
  
She shook the hand. Aubrey left the office, but kept the door open.  
  
"Pleasure meeting you, Mr Hurst".  
  
Daniel laughed, thumbing the scruff that ran down his chin. He said nothing, merely looking back, green eyes meeting blue. Aubrey began towards the stairwell, hearing the door close softly in her stead.

* * *

"Fucking a!" Savannah exclaimed. "Daniel is hot! He HAS to be married".  
  
Aubrey nodded. "Likely. I have a feeling he'd laugh at being called 'hot'. Yet another woman, wanting him to _fuck_  him".  
  
Savannah looked offended, then flushed.  
  
"Too right! I'm _dying_ right now, its been months".  
  
Aubrey looked away. It had been _years_ for her. This sent a pang of bitterness through her, it lanced through her heart.  
  
She coughed. "Thirsty? Not an attractive trait. Guys have told me as much".  
  
"Who did? You're as celibate as a nun wearing a _chastity_ belt, who isn't allowed to take it off, even to piss".  
  
Aubrey chuckled as she went into the cloakroom, grabbing her bag and rooting around for her phone. She found it, logged on to the building's WiFi, onto her dating profile, and Greg's profile. She showed Savannah, butting in before she could get a dig in.  
  
"Before you laugh, read the messages he sent me. He's pathetic but _hilarious_ ".  
  
Savannah read a few of the messages, eyes welling up from laughing so much.  
  
"Greg sounds like guys _I_ meet".  
  
Aubrey grinned, frightening the younger woman.  
  
"I'll let him know you're _interested_. You'd be an easier conquest, you know", she lent in, whispering, "being easy and all".  
  
Savannah's flush turned to rage.  
  
"Fuck you! I'm _not_ easy! I might be gagging for it, but, that doesn't mean _any_ guy will do. It'd help if he has a brain attached to his cock, you know. Someone like", it didn't take her long to think of an answer, " _Daniel_ ".  
  
Aubrey pondered that.  
  
"Yes. He does seem _different_. I say 'seem' as I've had that thought before and was proven _very_   wrong".  
  
Savannah put the phone on the desk. That earned her a look.  
  
"What? I didn't snoop".  
  
"There's _nothing_ to see".  
  
" _Ladies_ "...

* * *

Two heads shot to look at the new presence in the room. Daniel walked past them, with Margot close behind. The pair shook hands again, both holding a few papers. The contract, Aubrey deduced.  
  
"So, you've decided to work alongside us?"  
  
Savannah looked rather happy at that.  
  
"Excellent!" All eyes fell on her. Blond curls obscured her face as she looked down.  
  
Aubrey covered her back. " _We_ look forward to working with you, Daniel".  
  
Daniel nodded graciously, starting for the door.  
  
When _The Bear Necessities_ began ringing out, piercing the silence, Savannah flushed even more.  
  
 _No one_ could cover her there...


	4. Chapter 4

Aubrey sat on her couch, cigarette in hand, reading Daniel's manuscript, immediately enjoying it, appreciating his choice of words, correct use of punctuation. Old-word terms had her smiling, the use of which were dying out, in favour of shortened, lazier versions, abbreviations.

The words spoke of much life experience, much more than than man could have had, if her guess at his age was correct.

_Must be an old soul._

She liked old souls, she'd only dated children 'masquerading' as grown men. The kind who would shout, stomp around until they got their way.

They  _never_  did.

* * *

The next morning came quickly, not quite as cold as it had been prior. Aubrey still bundled herself up like an Inuit, minus temperatures made her grumble, and being in extreme close proximity to other people so early in the day it was pitch black outside, the light of the train stinging her eyes didn't sit well.

The sooner she was off the train, the better.

* * *

"Morning".

Savannah looked up from her desk, face peaky.

"Uh oh, someone was out till four in the morning  _again_. See, this is why I don't have a social life. Means I don't end up heaving what I had eaten the night before up. Not in _work's_  toilet too, that's just  _uncouth_. The audacity of  _youth_ ".

Aubrey smirked, placing her bag and jacket on the rack.

"Panadol, tea, no milk or sugar, and don't put your head back. You'll feel much worse, spinning equilibrium and all that".

The receptionist rolled her eyes, regretting it after the head spin. The older woman was right.

"Even at eight-thirty, you manage to be insufferable. Fuck off with your big words".

Aubrey enunciated every syllable.

" _Eq-uil-lib-rium_ ".

"Piss off, for the love of God".

"God? Don't you mean Daniel? He's due in today".

Savannah shot up from stupor, searching under the desk.

"Really? I look like  _shit_  too. Where is my damn makeup bag when I need it?"

Aubrey sighed.

"Here. Give it to me".

Green eyes squinted.

"What, you want to actually wear a  _proper_  amount? That'd be a first".

" _Forth_ , and no. I'll do it for you. I know how too, I just am old enough to not give a fuck if wrinkles are setting in, my under-eye bags look like I've been punched by a  _boxer_ , and my ever thinning lips decide to fully retract _into_  my mouth. Whereas, you? You're young, vibrant, and much  _prettier_  than you give yourself credit for. Seriously, don't be a bitter old hag like me".

Savannah's eyes turned doe-like, innocent, showing her youth.

"You  _know_  that. I can see that you do. Bag, please?" The older gestured for the medium sized peony vanity bag, tiny white flowers dotted here and there.

* * *

"We have half an hour, so I think I'll go fairly simple with this". Grey eyes scanned the contents of the bag, fingers perusing when she found the natural section of makeup. All neutral shades. "I'm playing artist, you'll be my  _masterpiece_ ".

Savannah blanched. "I  _should_  be worried".

"No, you should be  _honoured_ ".

"Hawdeehaw. Whatever".

Aubrey got out some sponges.

"A little foundation, concealer, some powder here and there". She applied these as gently as she could, the fact she could be gentle forced a smile from her.

Several brushes came out next.

"Should I poke your eyes out, or...".

Head shakes cut her off.

"I'll do it. I don't want to look like I've been punched by a  _boxer_ , after all".

Aubrey grinned. "Very good!"

"Ha ha". She pointed a chipped long nail at a small pan of beige suede eye shadow. "That one?"

The elder nodded, Savannah getting to work with that, using each item Aubrey had chosen. They consisted of brown eyeliner, her 'non 'spider lash' mascara and a muted pink lipstick.

Aubrey proceeded to fiddle with her phone whilst waiting, seeing how many balls she could catch and add to the snake in the old classic mobile game.

* * *

"Done. Just need to clean my brushes now". Savannah looked at the desk clock. "Ten minutes. Right".

Aubrey looked up from her phone, ever the petulant teenager, looking up from their phones in disbelief that anyone dared disturb them from social media likes. Her face dropped upon view of the other woman.

"Well well. If Daniel ever wanted to screw you, he would, looking like  _that_. You could front an ad".

Savannah chuckled. "I think the camera lens would crack". The two laughed softly. "Thanks though". A knowing wink followed. "I  _knew_  you weren't so bad. You just use ice queen tactics cause that's easier than trying to get on with people".

"Most people are  _arseholes_ , Sav, you'll learn that with age".

She began walking to Margot's office, her boss's arrival imminent.

"Condescending much? I take it back".

Aubrey turned on her heel, wry tilt of her lips.

"Maybe I am an just a  _frosty bitch_ ".

The secretary shut the door on whatever the receptionist did or said next.

_Right, tea and Daniel's file..._

* * *

Aubrey spent a few days compiling Mr Hurst's work, moving the folder around until all the edges were in line. Not that she minded, it just looked better that way.

Nine rolled around, Margot took the file and began reading intently, glasses perched on her slight yet prominent tipped nose, eyes crinkling in mirth in parts and stopping to sip Oolong.

Her secretary left her too it, taking her own cup to the kitchen, wondering why she hadn't bothered making herself one earlier.

Daniel was due in just under two hours. She had two hours to do god knows what. She'd filed all papers, used post-its for appropriate reminders, filled in Margot's timetable, appointments, names, book titles withstanding, couldn't fill the kettle with more water...

_Savannah mentioned brushes and cleaning._

Fastidiousness kicked in loud and proud, so, the older decided to help the younger yet again.

Anyone would think she actually  _liked_  the girl...

* * *

Daniel walked up the stairs looking like he'd just walked off an Armani runway. What he wore caught Aubrey's eye, she found she rather liked that look. Smart, but not try-hard. Classic, timeless white pressed button up, black waistcoat showing his slim frame and dress pants skimming slight hips.

It was his  _accessory_  that took Savannah's eye, and she wasn't as pleased.

* * *

"Pocket watch? Ewww, is he like _eighty_  or something? Like, am I hitting on  _Grandpa_?"

"Not  _everyone_  likes modern things, Sav. He is of a different generation, I guessed around my age".

Savannah cautiously threw a line.

"So,  _fifty_?"

Aubrey knowingly took the bait.

"You won't make it  _halfway_  to fifty, if I have my _way_ ".

"Ladies". The man's amused face and tone made the ladies jump. Aubrey handled it slightly better.

 _Slightly_...

* * *

"Arguing again?"

Savannah got on the defensive.

"That's what girls do" she spluttered out, "Mr Hurst".

Aubrey chimed in before Daniel could utter anything.

"Savannah merely meant that women can, and will be rather  _vocal_  at times. It isn't on you however, our attitude is on  _us_. Apologies".

Daniel's eyes flashed something the elder recognised, it baffled the younger.

"Oh, I  _know_ ".

With that, the man casually walked away as if he  _hadn't_  just mind fucked the ladies.

* * *

"Did he just"...

"He insinuated he _knows_  women can be vocal, and I'm willing to bet _not_  in the argumentative way I mentioned".

Savannah, wide eyed and mouth open gasped.

"How many women has he screwed to  _know_  that? Sheesh".

Aubrey kept a stern face, despite the man's tone and clear knowledge of women, the intonation struck her fairly deep.

"Sav, when you look like that, the question is how many women have _not_  done that. Not many would turn him down, though I don't see him the type to flit around. I also don't see a ring, or any sign he is in any way engaged. Perhaps a perpetual bachelor?"

"He could be  _my_  bachelor". Eager squeals and hands waved around excitedly. "Have you seen The Bachelor?"

Aubrey scoffed, holding Savannah's chair so she could no longer bounce like a giddy child on a bouncy castle.

"Why on Earth would I watch that drivel? I'd rather someone mow me down, then go back over me, leaving tire marks in the letters 'F U' Besides, I have my hand  _and_  a vibrator. Not a visuals person".

The receptionist was perturbed.

"Didn't need the visual, but,  _thanks_?"

Aubrey squeezed her shoulder.

"You're welcome. You do realise I am grooming you for my job, right? Not planning on being here all year. I have three weeks off, if and when I want it. Rainy day fund, I need a holiday badly, and someone has to play secretary till I get back, right?"

Light emerald's teared up, confusing grey, worry flashing its light.

"Uh, I didn't mean to disturb you  _that_  much. I thought we all played the fiddle from time to time".

Savannah laughed. "'Strummed'? 'Flicking the bean'?"

"That last one sounds like a torture method. No. There are far easier ways. And people say only  _men_  do it". She smirked. "Right".

"Bullshit, and they  _know_  it. They just don't like that most women take their pleasure into their  _own_  hands instead of them  _fumbling_  around".

Aubrey shook her head.

"Nice to know your sex life is going down the toilet. I don't have one, likely need a vacuum cleaner down there, its so  _dusty_ ".

Savannah flushed.

"Jesus frigging Christ girl! Moths flying out of it, its so unused? Awww. I'd say you need to be 'nicer,' but hey, I prefer you for  _you_ ".

"Good to hear it, cause I'm not changing". She smoothed back her hair and readjusted the clip. "Tea trolley time, like an 'eighty year old' woman. Even have the  _biscuits_  too".

* * *

Savannah felt better, that was clear when Aubrey mentioned biscuits. Her eyes lit up.

"Oooh, what type? Gimme".

Aubrey got said trolley with a teapot, spoons, sugar, milk and the aforementioned plate of sugary goodness.

"Nice. I quite like these myself, though I am partial to a Murray mint. Proper elderly person".

"I'll", she looked at her stomach, "fuck it. One or two won't harm my diet".

Aubrey got the packet, not wanting Savannah to paw at the ones on the plate.

"Here". She got out two and handed them over. The packet was put safely away from reach in the highest cupboard door the woman could reach whilst not in heels. Luckily, Savannah was not wearing heels that day, likely feeling too queasy to stand, let alone in  _stilts_.

* * *

"Off to a wedding in two weeks. Old mate of mine, Grant. Finally shacked up. He used to go out with tarts, but stopped when he realised they only wanted his cock, not the rest of him".

Aubrey just about got that, around her mouthful of biscuits.

"Could they fit  _all_  of him inside them? Lucky escape for him, I reckon".

Savannah almost choked. Aubrey pat her back.

"We have tarts too. I like eating them, but don't aspire to BE one".

"Too  _old_  to be one now", the former mused.

The elder's deadpanned, turning the blond's head towards her.

"What is it with you and my _age_? Really now".

Savannah retorted, to Aubrey's surprise and delight, she was  _standing up_  for herself.

Not that she was trying to  _bully_  her.

* * *

"Says the woman who uses her _age_  against mine!" She lowered her voice. "Look. I know I'm young, and ditsy like its going out of fashion, but I worked really _hard_  to be here, and continue to try, give it  _all_  I have. I make mistakes, yes, but don't be all high and mighty like you _never_  have, cause we both know that isn't true".

Aubrey's heart softened, grey eyes closed, her mouth lowered into a frown.

"I'm sorry. I can see why you'd be upset. I go  _too_  far with jokes, I get obnoxious, and I swear like its going out of fashion". She sighed. "Want me to  _go_?"

Savannah pouted but nodded.

"Want an ice cream sundae?"

Arms folded, the fabric of her blouse crinkling.

"Are you _bribing_  me?  _Buying_  my happiness?"

Aubrey sheepishly nodded.

"Make it a vanilla, hazelnut crunch, with a shot of caramel, little fudge pieces and chocolate shavings".

"Are you  _extorting_  me?" Eyes squinted as Aubrey grabbed her purse. A wicked grin  _confirmed_  her suspicions.

"You are apologising, right? So, yes., in a way, I  _am_ ".

"Well played" the elder congratulated, " _Barbie doll_ ".

She was halfway down the first stairwell before Savannah could reply...


	5. Chapter 5

__"The occult?"

Aubrey sipped her coffee.

"Yeah", Savannah got out, around a mouthful of ice cream, "that's what Daniel's latest piece is about".

"Huh, he didn't strike me as the type for that nonsensical _drivel_ ".

Daniel left Margot's office, shutting the door quietly.

"It is only 'nonsensical drivel' if you see it at _face_ value. How do you believe religion gained popularity? It has _occult_ roots".

"Ah, I ought to try and see things from _different_ perspectives. Oh! And, I apologise for bumping into you. It was careless, I almost _ruined_ your lovely pressed shirt".

The man's eyes studied her, Aubrey felt like she was looking up at the sky, the purest Summer sky, not a cloud to be seen.

"It is of no matter, Ms Dawkins".

"Aubrey, please. I trust you've been acquainted with Savannah Pierce".

The receptionist masked a squeak as he acknowledged her. A head tip sent her into overdrive, hormonal youth _obvious_.

Aubrey tried to look oblivious, acting her socks off, giving the liquid in the cup her full attention. Daniel perked up, thumbing his chin.

"Miss Pierce, whilst I find your squeals rather charming, I think _undertones_ lie beneath, and I must stress, with the utmost respect that I am far too _old_ for your eyes to look upon in such a manner".

Blond hair fell forward, bright blue eyes downcast. A small pink pout was all her fellows could see.

"Aubrey _isn't_ ".

She muttered. The secretary didn't bother to hide her reaction, the blond shrinking back from its intensity.

" _Charming_. I would never have put you at my age, Daniel. I'd have said older, _respectfully_ , of course. _Distinguished_ , without lines. I ought to ask your beauty regime. I, too, wish to keep premature ageing at bay".

Daniel's off-putting chipper attitude put her on edge.

"Its, not quite what _apothecaries_ sell. As old as _time_ ".

Savannah squinted, mouth an odd angle.

"What, like, lead face dust?"

"I believe you mean powder, and, lead is _toxic_. I wouldn't put that anywhere near me. I have encountered women who still use that. It only made them very ill, not in any way beautifying them. It made their skin _sallow_. Ill advised".

Aubrey seconded that.

"Us 'old people'"...

Daniel's hazy blues sparkled with mirth, working jaw amused.

"Speak for _yourself_. 'Distinguished', I believe is the term you _used_?"

The secretary rolled her eyes.

"Us 'distinguished' oldies know that lead is terrible for you. Women did _horrible_ things in order to be viewed by the male of the species as ' _worthy_ '".

"They _were_ worthy", the 'male' corrected, "men did not ask for them to poison themselves, wilting flowers, perishing before their _thirtieth_ year. None I know of wanted that". His face hardened. "It is today that men appear to think women nothing more than _objects_. Disgraceful, is what that is".

Aubrey, again agreed.

"Don't have to tell _me_ twice. I encounter that _every_ time I foray into the 'dating world'. That, and", she nudged Savannah's shoulder, eyes wistful with a hint of mocking, "as my oh so lovely young colleague pointed out, as I am, indeed old, men see me rather as a _fossil_ than a worthy partner".

The younger couldn't resist.

" _Adversary_ , more like. You're single not because you're 'old'. Its because you give off _bitter_ , and no man wants bitter in his _mouth_ ".

"Neither do _women_ , but men insist they rather _like_ it".

Loud giggles erupted from the receptionist.

"Rather be a fossil than someone who _laughs_ at a blow job joke".

Daniel chirped quizzically, fingers musing his beard.

"And I would rather be an old fashioned historian, who treats women with _respect_ , than shove sour verbatim _down_ their throats, throw them out and call it a night".

The women howled, Daniel's quiet chuckles drowned out.

* * *

"Uber for _one_ ".

Aubrey held her stomach, the onset of hiccups irritating her.

"Oh, please. Only rich people use that, or people so drunk, they don't care they are getting ripped off. Good old cabbies, I say. They spend _years_ learning all roads, routes and traffic patterns. They don't do that, just to be replaced by a robotic woman,  _nagging_ them. That's all they need. Front passenger seat driver".

"Uber for one, to the Natural History Museum! Ready an exhibit! We got another find! The rare, _lesser spotted Grandma_. We call her, 'Aubrey'".

Aubrey grinned, pointing at herself with her thumbs.

"They'd better put me in the front lobby, so the public can see all my _craggy_ glory".

Savannah grimaced.

"Yeah! Put Daniel in the library too".

"Yes, put him there. By craggy bits, I mean _nude_. Can't have Mr Hurst seeing that, not after meeting me _alive_ ".

Savannah's mouth dropped.

"Yeah, spare him that indecency. Forgive that, Daniel, that idea may _never_ leave your mind now. Yikes".

* * *

Daniel's features said little in response.

"I don't know, its been a _while_ since I saw a woman's form".

The blond couldn't comprehend that.

"You're _single?_ Like, what? How in the fuck are YOU single?"

Grey eyes shot her a look.

"Sav, not everyone wishes to be in a relationship. Some _thrive_ being single".

A twinge of irony snapped, twisting its lance around her heart.

She didn't thrive being single.

She practically died.

But, she'd only want someone for the _extra_ income, not for _mush_. _Never_ for mush. Gushing, public displays of affection and fucking behind clubs was for people _Savannah's_ age. Not HER age.

She would die from _shame_ there...

* * *

"Wait. There was a time you WEREN'T single?"

The blond teased. Aubrey snapped to reality.

"Yeah. Dave. We were together for eight years. Decent fella. Funny, witty, annoyed me beyond anything or _anyone_ else though".

"Why'dya split then?"

Wistful, the secretary looked back.

"We fell out of love".

She looked at Daniel, question left unanswered.

"Ah, the subject of relations. I find myself unable to answer the question of why. Merely unable to meet someone that values _themselves_ , other than their appearance. I much prefer integrity to 'I must look like a _doll_ at _all_ times' I cannot let men see my _true_ face'".

"You won't find _anyone_ then. Women are more concerned with their outward appearance than bothering to have a decent _internal_ outlook".

* * *

Savannah said something next that made Aubrey want to _smack_ herself with her palm until she fell unconscious.

"Aubrey isn't like that, though, her insides are just as caustic as her visage".

"Hey! I'd rather be honest than paint myself as 'Barbie's Mum', trying to look like her _equally_ attractive 'older sister'".

Daniel shook his head.

"If I wanted fake, I would _acquire_ fake. Someone who believes she is worth something _other_ than vanity is a plus. Don't date younger, I found out the hard way that the younger generation care more for their hair and having nails akin to the _avian_ species than having something between their ears". He tipped his head. "Other than you, Savannah. You aren't the sort".

Pearly doe blues made a reappearance, as Savannah gushed. He sounded like Hugh Grant, but with a hint of suave roughness. Like he smoked for a few decades, but his body showed no signs of the _damage_ the toxins caused.

* * *

"My mates are though. Its like they have no morals, self control has gone. They drag home _idiots_ , then _complain_ they are idiots the next morning when he's left them, all _smug_ with himself cause he got off. Half the time, the guys don't even get _them_ off. Like, how _rude_ ".

Aubrey had given up trying to cease the receptionist's lewd talk. She joined in instead.

"Oh no. Not having _any_ of that. If a guy refuses to help me out, he's not putting his genitals anywhere _near_ a hole. Any need to be a lazy, selfish _bastard_? No. Had that once, never again". She shivered. "Ended up counting the cracks in the damn ceiling, including the _massive_ one above me, 'attempting' intercourse. That's how bored I was. If I want a moron flopping about, then snoring two seconds later, I know _who_ to call. Also, I don't date younger either. No to man-children with silly haircuts. Its called _dating_ , not **_babysitting_** ".

Daniel laughed, clearly entertained.

"Indeed. When people say they need to reign someone in, I doubt highly they mean literal _child_ reigns". He glanced at the clock. "I ought to be leaving. Books to sort, life to attend too".

Savannah tilted her head.

"Isn't that a bit _dull?_ Well thumbed backs, pages torn, and that _mouldy_ page smell?"

"That, my dear, is merely the _surface_. Underneath that? I've found tomes thought long _lost_ , diaries, photo books, _rare_ poetry volumes and manuscripts. Dusty _notwithstanding_ ".

"I'd love to visit sometime. Peruse the shelves, imagining just how many _unknown_ authors have their works there, who reads them, etc".

Aubrey said this aloud, unaware that she had. Daniel replying to her thought jolted her.

"You'd be _welcome_ too. And you, Miss Pierce, despite your _incorrect_ analogy".

Savannah squealed, not for the prospect of reading, but being alone, in a large, _darkened_ space with an _older_ man sounded like fun to her.

Aubrey, on the other hand felt bewilderment...

* * *

"Between ten and three".

Daniel handed Savannah two cards from his waistcoat pocket. She took one eagerly, stuffing it under her blouse, between her breasts. Daniel looked away, coughing, offering the other to the older woman. She was still in a daze, so, Daniel took initiative, glancing around for something he could talk to her about.

When he saw a copy of Jane Austen's _Persuasion_ , he perked up.

"Romantic comedies? I took you for trials and tribulations. A _Bleak House_ type, if you will".

Aubrey shot back, immediate smile on the man's face cue for Savannah to slip out of the room. She'd gotten the hint the two were about to converse on something she knew _sod_ all about.

"I'd much rather Jane Austen than that particular Charles Dickens novel. That's the ninth instalment, my eyes would be in the back of my _skull_ after reading all of them, one after the other. That, and the classics far _outweigh_ most modern attempts at 'romance'. Fifty Shades, for example. That's _rape_ , severe abuse and yet, women _ate_ it up. We accuse men of being base, and yet, it was the 'fairer' sex that gobbled up that incessant _babble_. Sorry", she paused her rant mid-way through, "that word isn't a nice one. Neither of them are, to be honest".

She looked out the window, biting the skin of her gum in frustration. Also, _worry_ , which surprised her. She grew anxious that the man would think her some inane, crazy talking _witch_ , who's mouth spat out more profanities than a hyperactive teenager, trying to look 'hard' in front of their mates...

* * *

"You're correct in that assessment. I avoid anything of the sort that suggests women are objects. No gender is, no sexuality should be demonised, no one should be treated terribly. Abhorrent vernacular has my mouth threaten to spit coffee all over precious, old volumes. I couldn't do that, not to them. Not to Dickens, Bronte, Austen, Poe, Kafka, Freud. The greats must be preserved, the rest used as _fodder_ for bonfires and hearths".

Aubrey found herself grinning.

"Get you and your 'Guy Fawkes'esque talk. Revolution is _nigh_! Nigh on _impossible_ , but, I digress. I will come and visit the library. Perhaps this weekend".

Blue eyes twinkled, the woman unable to work out what was causing it.

"Excellent". She took the card from the man's hand before he could extend it.

"Something to do. Ending up a freezing, rotting corpse in my hovel", she corrected sourly, "I mean, my _flat_ isn't what I would call an 'interesting' weekend. Not that I could speak, if I was _dead_ and all".

Daniel's inquiry teased, more than just her mind.

"Dare say I'm _shocked_! I thought you'd go out, 'clubbing' as the younger generations call it. Tear up the dance floor ". He pursed his lips. "Am I really _uttering_ this drivel?"

Aubrey dared to put the back of her hand against the man's forehead.

"Have you _malfunctioned_ or something? Where's 'oh so eloquent' Daniel gone? On a dance floor somewhere, Dad dancing to ABBA?" She spared him a cheeky smirk. " _Probable_ ".

Daniel mimed comedy 'haw haws'.

"I did say I like classics, and ABBA _are_ , indeed. However, you shall not see me in sequined 'disco pants' and neon stacked platforms _any_ time soon".

Aubrey shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know. The seventies look is in vogue now, you know. See? I might dress like an eighty year old _bag_ lady, but I do know _something_ of fashion. All you need is a _porn_ tash and an oversized pair of _sunglasses_ ".

Daniel smirked, tipping his head before heading for the door.

"I do believe you've just inquired of a _date_. I'll ponder on that".

As he opened the stairwell door, Aubrey ran up to it, ignoring that she almost _tripped._

"If I wanted a date, I'd _ask_ you outright".

Daniel stopped on the landing.

"And is this you asking _outright?"_

Aubrey scoffed, not showing that she registered a distinct _knot_ in her lower abdomen. She squirmed, praying to David Bowie that the man hadn't picked that up.

"Please. If I wanted to date a man with a stick so far rammed up his own arse, it pokes out from his _mouth_ , I would. Take your stick _elsewhere_ ", her suggestion garnered a laugh, "use it as _kindling_. Save on the books. Those poor, _poor_ books".

The secretary didn't _dare_ look back, lest she go flying, or die from Daniel _laughing_ at her...


	6. Chapter 6

_Present day_

  
Daniel reminisced on his past life, varying degrees of emotion striking him. Radu, Elisabeta, the women after her. How Bram Stoker wrote him, portrayed him. He had read the novel several times, lucky enough to find a first edition copy. He'd been a day away from meeting the man himself, deeming it too ironic, blasé. Earlier base instincts made him consider freeing himself, the depiction of Mina somehow, perhaps a tad cautiously giving him chilling thrill, spine arching. Lucy was pretty in description, but base in other aspects. There was little wrong with seeking happiness, but hers was a fantasy. Nothing short of delusional.

She believed she could tame the dragon.

She could not.

* * *

The first page containing his name hit him as amusing, memories opening floodgates.

 _Dracu_ l, he hadn't been called that in millennia, and, whilst he felt no shame in mentioning his former title, he knew society viewed it with scorn. He was a myth, the fever dreams of an overly aroused woman who's husband was hopeless in bed, flopping around for an agonising minute before collapsing in a heap, falling asleep quickly.

Daniel smirked, picking up delicate porcelain, bringing it to his lips, taking a sip of sweet tea.

Men hadn't changed much in his years, his view point.

Women however? My, how they'd blossomed. Able to be sexual beings without ridicule, able to pleasure themselves without cause, simply when the need took them.

* * *

He was old enough not to give in to such carnal urges. His body did not flare up when he saw a pretty girl. He did not grow hard at the sight of breasts, heaved so high, the lady could use them as a head rest. Nor did his mouth dry, desperate for water when he sat, watching men gaze lustfully at a woman, with a piece of string and scrap of lace combined into what she called 'panties'.

They had  _wives_  at home, Daniel knew that.

But, who cared if the dancing female was meat to the wolves?

 _He_  did.

* * *

In his youth, he was virile, eager to feel a woman's form, especially after seeing women flock to his brother, like he was a deity incarnate. He'd hear their sounds, combination of rutting's good and bad sides. His own flesh would ache, pulse, unaware of what to do, how to do it.

He'd touched himself before, but, to his brother's bellows? Wasn't there a line drawn, even if in the shadows his hand fell upon warm flesh?

Not quite incestuous, but quite wrong. Phasing out grunts from feminine wails wasn't easy, when the castle was so quiet, you could hear a rat's claws scurrying on stone...

* * *

In his twenties going on thirties, he learned to control his urges, beginning to resent his elder brother and his ways. A woman had been suggested as his wife, Elisabeta Vereloine, daughter of Baron Zeren Verloine. Radu flatly refused the man's request. She was then 'offered' to Dracul, her hand vital in securing wealth, joining territories. Dracul wished to get to know the lady before knowing her intimately. Their Father, Vlad II was furious that his eldest behaved like a teenager well into his adult years.

Dracul spent a few months observing Elisabeta, her quirks, light laughter echoed throughout the hallways.

Now, there was a sound he much preferred to listen too.

And, he did, with her and her Father's permission, of course. He truly respected the family.

* * *

Eventually, Zeren asked Dracul's Father if his youngest could marry his daughter. Vlad agreed wholeheartedly, he himself seeing how cordial the two were with one another. The two were married in a lavish ceremony three months later, Dracul clad in red velvet, gold accents, Elisabeta in white lace.

Their parents looked on with pride, whilst Radu scowled, attempting to hide it behind his beard.

* * *

Neither party had touched one another before marriage, neither knew how courtship worked. After their first awkward fumble, laughter ensued, and a promise.

They would respect, care for and love one another, for all eternity.

For now, they were safe, their Father's lands were safe. They could rest in peace.

* * *

_Present day_

Aubrey shook her hood of rain, droplets scattering in every direction. It was soaked, faux fur sodden. She sighed, seeing a coat rack just inside the library entryway. She folded the jacket over her arm, hood side as far away as possible. Daniel opened the door.

"Lovely day".

His smirk lightened Aubrey's sour discord.

"Quite. Now", she moved the sopping fabric away from his grey waistcoat, "can I come in?"

A harsh glint took hazed cerulean. Aubrey's brows dropped, suspicious.

"You alright? You've gone from chipper to serial killer in two seconds flat".

_Can you come in? Please. How many times must I hear that trope?_

His mind chimed. A different, rational part threw its two cents in.

**_She does not know your nature. It isn't her fault that society paints you as a gaunt sex pest with sparkling skin..._ **

Grey hooded eyes greeted Daniel when he blinked, shutting out the light to his chaotic thoughts.

* * *

"Yes", he took the coat in one fluid motion, draping it over the rack, "of course". He stepped aside, letting the woman inside.

Aubrey moved past the man, rather perturbed at his turn. No longer welcoming, as she slipped by him, he felt cold, off, something wasn't quite right with him.

Call her stupid, but she ignored the signs things were amiss.

She saw her reflection in a cabinet mirror, hair in several directions, wet static the cause. She payed it no mind.

She was here to read, not model on a runway.

* * *

Her eyes fell upon holy books, grin smoothing her lips. She raised a brow.

"Get the feeling if I stay by this bookcase, it'll burst into flames. Or I will".

Daniel appeared behind her, no longer giving off 'ice prince'.

"Apologies for earlier. I've, had an off day. I shouldn't take it out on you".

Aubrey picked up a copy of Baghdad Gita. The man's eyes fell upon the cover.

"Krishna? Didn't you just remark it could go up in flames?" He smiled knowingly.

Aubrey grinned. "Smoke and mirrors, honey", she waved her free hand, movement akin to a magician after they said 'Abracadabra', "I'm an enigma".

Daniel got out what he needed to almost as soon as the woman sat down.

"Last night, I was walking home, my path took me past a club. I saw the way men leched. Beguiling".

Aubrey 'ah'ed.

"They're young. That's no excuse, but I believe we've all had times where we may have 'leched'". She snuck in a cheeky ditty. "Did you imagine them looking at me like that?"

"The women I have known in my life, all at once, I saw those men, speaking the way they did, directed at them. When I was their age, I was attracted to women, not for the size of the chest or what is between her legs. Why does society deem only being interested on external looks?"

Aubrey shrugged. "Women do it too. You ask them, and they'll all say the same thing. They want a broad, tall man, perfect body, just right cock, carved by 'gods'. They never say anything other than that, save for if they aren't straight, of course".

She opened the book. "Glad I am here. Work is getting on top of me", she faced the brunette male, "I'm behind on the paperwork for the first copy of your work. That's why", she opened her bag, taking out a thick stack of pages, "I brought it with me! I can look like I'm reading whilst actually working".

Daniel grinned.

"Cultured".

Aubrey nodded, quite proud of herself.

"Quite".

"Tea?"

The secretary wove a hand through her hair, shaking it free of drips.

"Something stronger?"

"After being outside in that?" She looked out the window, rain thundering against it. "Definitely".

Daniel concurred, leaving the room to his 'hidden' liquor cabinet. It didn't hurt anyone if they didn't know it was there...

* * *

"There's no reception here". Aubrey waved her phone, signal bars non-existent. "I love that. I know, modern age and all that, however, it is nice to put the technology away for a while, concentrate on yourself". She laughed darkly. "Also means Margot can't bother me. Really, I've had seven emails from her in ten minutes. I replied to the second, genuinely missing the first as I was on the Tube, and had no signal there either. Still, she's a bold character, a tough cookie. I ought to buy her a caramel latte before I head back, or a bottle of prosecco. That'll take the sting out of me being late on the project".

She turned upon hearing the clinking of bottles.

"Perfect", she sighed, "dilate my blood vessels for a bit, give me the illusion of being warm".

The room was cool, Daniel accustomed to it. Aubrey, however had come out of the cold Winter air. She was already shivering, discomfort obvious, a mask partially slipped over it.

"Here, give me your wet clothing. I'll drape them over the radiators, turn them up".

"Hey", she teased, "aren't I glad I'm not wearing anything remotely 'sexy'. Totally. Granny pants for life".

Daniel exchanged the bottles for a cardigan and scarf.

"Should I say shame, or what I think?"

Aubrey called his bluff.

"Neither. Just get some tumblers, lest I neck this, like the classy woman I am".

The man used his 'trick' of gazing into her eyes, blue shards piercing her soul, heat blooming taking chills with it.

* * *

Seconds of silence became heavy, pregnant pause aggravating her. She needed to keep him on his toes, not come across as how other ladies would act around him.

Like Savannah fell apart around him.

* * *

"Am I supposed to be blushing?"

She took the bottle of rum, acting her way out of his eye-line with it.

"Cause, if I am", she forced herself to return the look, "it isn't you. Its this glorious amber liquid".

"Good", Daniel remarked, "wouldn't want you tripping over yourself from being blinded by myself".

Aubrey's smirk pleasantly occupied her companion.

"Ice?"

He blurted that out, preferring his drink with that, perhaps a lemon or lime wedge.

"Please, I'll pass", the secretary waved her hand, "my soul is cold enough".

The two allowed themselves hearty chuckles. Daniel did as was asked, Aubrey sighing gratefully as the heating kicked in.

She looked down, her bra peaked from prior frozen skin. Her arms folded over her chest, hoping the man hadn't noticed.

* * *

Ten minutes later found Aubrey, in one hand a tumbler of rum, the other a pen. She began fleshing out her notes on Daniel's work, the piece similar to Charles' Dickens Bleak House. Its narrative told of loss, the devastation of war, repercussions, how many women lost their husbands, ending up alone, with children or pregnant. It very much reminded her of texts she has read regarding world wars one and two. The secretary couldn't imagine how those women coped. Losing even one person around her had her falling apart at the seams, unseen hand pulling free her threads with needles, loosening her resolve.

Aubrey turned, observing Daniel. He'd taken the only book from her and seemingly was possessed via its knowledge, its pearls of wisdom. She coughed rudely, knowing her error, but hating the sombre quietness of the room.

"I don't much believe in Gods, other plains and the like, but the words are awfully soothing, especially in times of heartache and pain. Reading that alongside your work would be an interesting experience".

"You're right", the man smiled, offering a hand, "here".

Aubrey picked up the page she was reading, turning, passing it to the man. He's brow raised, he shook his head softly.

"Your idea wouldn't work if it were only I reading, my dear".

Aubrey thinned her lips, perplexed biting of her cheek.

"Uh...do you mean you'd like me to read Grenadine whilst you read the Baghdad Gita simultaneously?" She stood, smoothing down her skirt. "Sure".

She ambled on over, her decision to wear midi heels not one she now agreed with. She wore them for vanity, the shoes making her legs look less like she enjoyed eating ice cream whilst sat on the couch in her pyjamas...

* * *

Daniel snorting made her stomach jolt. Was it directed at her? Her folly wearing heels?

No. The short answer was no. Her companion's eyes were upon the page in her hand. She gave it over, no questions asked, standing behind him with folded arms.

"Red pen? I feel I'm being berated by a teacher".

The woman mumbled, annoyed at herself rather than the man.

"Bloody heels. Yeah", she raised a foot, "why did I wear these again? Oh yes! Because I want to look more elegant, less dumpy. Red pen?" She let a corner of her mouth play upwards. "Yes, it was the only one I could find that didn't run out halfway through a sentence. And I am not berating you. If you actually read my comments, you'd see my praise. Its not every day I see literary work that could rival the classics".

Daniel tilted his head, some notes diagonal.

"Should I have doodled? Men tend to be visual creatures, no?"

Daniel swivelled his head at an inopportune moment (in her mind), catching a flash of bra beneath her shirt.

"Yes", he let out measured breath, "we are visual creatures".

Aubrey smirked. "Please. If you were, you wouldn't be looking at me. A thirty-eight year old woman isn't quite what guys look at and think, she's pretty. Besides, I'm happy being a fossil. Means I have a story, I have lines telling my life's monologue. I didn't have that when young. I just focused on studies rather than life outside that".

"One, not all 'guys' think if you're thirty-eight you are a relic, undeserving of affection. Being focused on education isn't a bad thing".

The woman fell quiet.

"It is when you're friends do what twenty-somethings should do. In fact", she tittered, "they were all kicked out, either due to being drunk, not turning up to lectures, or turning up to them drunk".

"And that's funny, how exactly? They lost their chance to open their minds, broaden their horizons".

Aubrey shot to defend them, but knew the man was right.

"Feel as if I missed out. Hell, I did miss out. I don't know why I didn't let myself go out. My lessons mattered more to me, glow paint, fake eyelashes and mini skirts not so much. A woman of my age in a bar now would attract sad, amused laughter".

"It only would if you acted the part. Sitting there, having a drink shouldn't attract that sort of behaviour. Really, are men of today dullards?"

"Younger look to be, rather smug too. They are better than anything you've ever had, they should own you. Guys my age look to be desperate. They are nearing forty, not settled down, nowhere near marriage. Spend all their time drowning their sorrows on their own, as their friends are settled. I don't want to be owned, nor forced to be a Mother for some down and out vagrant". She waved her hands. "I know, I'm cruel".

Daniel disagreed.

"You're right. Its a true shame. However, you come across as a woman who can live off her own merit, make her way through the world. Needn't rely off men. That attitude is as old as time".

"I doubt you'd struggle to find a partner, or lover, whichever is your preference".

The man grinned, amusement clear on his features.

"Are you calling me a harlot?"

"Never", the woman reasoned, "I am saying women likely turn into one when you are around".

"Not quite. I don't take advantage of that. I dislike when their undergarments hit the floor when they think I missed it. They need to have more care, thought for themselves. I wouldn't harm them, but others would".

"I didn't mean you'd harm them". She smiled. "I don't know why they bother wearing kickers then. I wouldn't, but its too damn cold. I'd end up in A&E very embarrassed".

She made several faces, discord in her head prying open thoughts of parts of her she hadn't bothered with in,  _months_?

No one else had in  _years_.

_Fuck. Don't know why I bother shaving or making myself look acceptable. It isn't like any men give a hoot._

Her mind spat saliva laced caustic words. She could spit them out, though they'd still  _hurt_...

_That's on you, not them. Its got sod all to do whether you look like Gisele Bündchen or not. Its about how you feel about yourself. If you think you're an ugly wretch, why would men think any different? They are visual creatures, if you think you look like shit, they won't see confident. They'll see stress, hatred, self loathing is rather evident on your face._

* * *

"I should be off". She stood, taking her purse, placing Daniel's work within it. "Thanks for the drink. The rain seems to have calmed down. Get back to Margot, then go home".

Daniel paused, the woman's turn in mood confusing him, until he saw her face. She was attempting to hide it beneath her scarf. She looked downcast, internal monologue gone south, giving her discouraging thoughts.

_Disparaging..._

_Ah_. That's when he had the ping.  _Aubrey constantly demeans herself, and, whilst she attempts to mask it with the moniker of 'joke', it certainly isn't one._

* * *

"You're welcome". That's what he went with. Not quite what he wished too, but, those were the words he chose. He turned his back, picking up a fountain pen and tearing some paper. "Your jacket is draped over the stairway radiator".

He finished writing, unseen by his companion as he slipped by, placing the paper inside a jacket pocket, curling it into a glove.

Heeled clicks stopping abruptly charmed him.

"Er, which stairwell? There are", she walked to an interactive map, zooming in with her fingers, "three nearby, according to this". She felt miffed. "Looks like I have to rely off of technology after all".

Daniel popped his head around the doorway.

"This one. I should have clarified which".

If he had, Aubrey would have gotten a  _clear_  view of his sneaky tendencies...

"Okay". The secretary walked up to him. "Thanks".

Daniel held up a hand, moving past her shoulder by a step.

"Occultatum ante vos, profunde in tenebris, vos can reperio lucem, si quaesieris eam".

Aubrey put her jacket on, stuffing her hand in her pockets. She felt something in her glove but didn't give it away.

"Okay. I will say that was rather attractive. Latin has a way of uncoiling my stress. You have a way of quelling it". She moved onto her tiptoes, moving the tall man's head to face her. "How do you do that? Disarming me is tough, for I have many wires. I reside in darkness for fear of the light. If I find it, what if it takes what I know away? If I know upset, unable to find my way in a world full of paths, how I can find the light?" She smiled, knowingly. "Yes, I  _know_  what you said. I learn, I learn quickly, I observe fairly well too. You come off quiet, though inside? Inside I feel there is a darkness, you push through it, wade through its depths with vigour. Intent clear, as clear as those eyes. I will say I am similar to women when they say they enjoy light eyes. An icicle? Not quite so sure".

She swivelled away. "How cliched". She chuckled. "You can look away now".

Zipping up her jacket with a smirk, peripheral vision viewing Daniel keeping his gaze on her. He had moved his head, owl-like, swift, a strange angle.

Or that could just be her eyes...

* * *

"See you sometime", she whispered, leaving the warmth of the library and the man within it.

Daniel simply nodded, leaving the space, returning to his office for a drink.

This beverage he kept away from prying eyes, even Aubrey's. Though Dracul had heard enough bereavement to fuel a thousand lifetimes for what he needed to survive, he did not do what they believed. He did not slaughter innocents en-masse, not tear through fields of livestock like a lone wolf. He had donors for most of his unlife, they were screened twice a year. Astuteness, tid bits of fear lingered in the cracks. Drinking tainted blood could kill him. He was the only one of his kind, unable to breed, much to his delight (he could take lovers without consequence. They were screened too).

He kept himself to himself, seeking pleasure occasionally, finding himself along the way.

* * *

Aubrey waited until she was at the train station before taking the note from her glove, its scratchy surface grazing her palm.

She unfolded it, slipping the garment back on immediately, Winter's chill not appreciated.

_'The darkness is only dark if we refuse to turn on a light'._

She raised a brow, brunette hairs bristling.

Then, she laughed, quite loudly, attracting pedestrian's heads.

_Oh you soppy bastard!_

The cold didn't bother her after that...


	7. Chapter 7

Savannah looked up from her laptop, raising an arched blond brow.

"You look much better", she pieced together Aubrey's day, in her own 'special' way, "you saw Daniel today?"

Aubrey nodded, placing her bag next to the younger woman's.

"Don't tell me you two", she laughed, "in a  _library_?! Girl, that's _epic._  Lucky bitch!"

Aubrey coughed, fits surprising her. She doubled over the counter, her gut hurting.

"No! Really, Sav? I've known him for a little over seventy-two hours. Don't move  _that_  quick. Christ". She regained some composure, using momentum so she could sit down. "Besides, he looks like a model. Why would a model  _sleep_  with someone who looks like an angry bitch? Not a lucky one. He's an  _acquaintance_ , Sav, that's it".

The receptionist shook her head, squinting emeralds.

"You literally have  _flirty_  banter when you see each other. Like, he's  _returning_  it, you know. You're both smart, so, you can chat about all sorts. I wouldn't understand  _any_  of it, so, no need to worry about me understanding any of it".

Aubrey laughed. "To be fair, we'd have to  _screw_  in front of you before you got it". She controlled herself with getting her phone out of her bag. "He speaks Latin. That got me, got me  _damn_  good".

Savannah giggled. "That's hot".

"Paris Hilton? No. He isn't  _hot_. He's different,  _unique_ , his brain is in the right head. He's got charm, but he doesn't use that as a weapon to bed women. It _isn't_  bull, he isn't full of it. There's  _raw_  honesty there, I appreciate that".

"That's rare, yeah".

"Besides", the secretary took out the manuscript, "almost done making notes. Oh, and I got Margot some prosecco, to make up for me ignoring her".

Savannah shushed her colleague.

"Woah! Keep it down! She's in there". She squeaked. "I'll get her a glass".

"Make sure to buff it till it gleams".

"And ruin  _these_  nails?" The receptionist looked at nude false nails, decorated with little clear gems. "I think not". Her smirk gave her away. "By the way, Margot isn't in there. She left two hours ago. Said she  _tried_  to tell you, but she must have missed you". She winked. "Daniel didn't though, did he?"

"What? Missed or tried to tell me  _something_? He already did".

Aubrey's warm, earnest smile had the younger woman's mouth returning it.

"You  _really_  like him".

Aubrey nodded.

"It isn't every day you meet someone who can  _hold_  conversation, has a mind of his  _own_ , does what he loves as a job, has a brain in the _right_  head. Also, groomed just the right amount. Not keen on the trend of  _annihilating_  every hair on your body, save your face. Guys have hair, women have hair. Never understood why its  _disgusting_. I understand wanting to remove underarm and groin hairs. You don't want sweat lingering in either. But your legs? Chest? Arms? Too far. Too much".

"How do you know he's groomed 'just the right amount' unless you've  _looked_  at his body?"

Savannah's wry tone made Aubrey's face contort.

"I meant his  _face_ , Sav. I have seen that, and a little of his forearm. That's it. Nothing seedy, untoward".

"Shame. Reckon he's got some  _skills_  on him. I'd say mid forties".

"Don't need skill. Its wrist action. All in the  _wrist"_.

Savannah choked into her tea.

"I love you, you know that?"

Aubrey did something that had the blond regretting her words.

"Too right, sister".

She took the bottle, heading into Margot's office. She placed it in her wine cooler, glasses on top of it.

* * *

"Margot? Good evening. I'll be heading off soon. Thought I'd stay a little longer".

It was evening now, the secretary wanted to go home, antsy feet under the desk.

"There's a present in the office, to say sorry". Aubrey reasoned. "I wasn't ignoring you. No signal on the tube, and in the library".

That last part she was _reluctant_  to mention. Her boss saw her reticence.

"The library? Daniel?  _Aubrey_ ", she used her motherly tone, "whilst I feel jubilant that you've met someone"...

Aubrey felt herself butt in, words on her tongue, trying to burst free of her mouth. She suppressed them.

"I'd appreciate if you at least _told_  me where you were going".

Her secretary smiled.

"I don't know why I didn't. Sounds seedy as all hell. It wasn't, by the way. Neither of us are the type". She added, speeding through word count.

"I know". Margot nodded, knowing wise demeanour telling. "I  _was_  your age once". She teased, chuckling. "I see your notes are complete. Excellent. I will take them home, study them tonight. Take tomorrow off, you've been running yourself ragged".

Aubrey shook her head.

"I can't _afford_  to do that. The rent has gone up again, it's over three quarters my paycheck now".

Her honesty was much welcomed with her boss. She'd rather that than lies, office  _gossip_...

* * *

"That's ridiculous. That isn't worth that amount of money. Absurd". She took her phone from her purse. "I'll sort you something, help you out of that pallor  _shell_  of an 'apartment'".

Grey eyes ballooned.

"That's...Margot. That's a lovely gesture, something I could  _never_  repay"...

"No buts". Soft honey eyes mellowed. "You've been with me  _twenty_  years this year. You're loyal to a fault, efficient, beyond talented. I know you're struggling, though I did not acknowledge  _how_  much. I apologise for that, truly. I will find you somewhere nearer the office, save you money on travel. Save you having to deal with  _other_  people".

The two shared a smirk.

"Except  _Daniel_ "...

* * *

They spoke, the words used the same.

Aubrey wiggled her nose.

"Eh, he's,  _tolerable_. So is Savannah, and you, Mrs Parsons".

Margot patted her hand.

"Good  _save_. There will be a surprise waiting for you too. Hmm, should I have told you that? Not much of a  _surprise_ "...

Aubrey's ears must be mishearing the older woman...

"No, but, its up to you. Again, thank you. Glad I have you as my boss. You've known me long enough to know I am not a wicked fiend. In no way malicious, even mean, so to speak. My tongue gets  _ahead_  of my brain, occasionally...".

" _All_  the time". Her boss opened her office door. "See you on Monday".

Aubrey laughed, picking up her jacket and purse.

* * *

One horridly cramped tube journey later found Aubrey home. No train delays and an empty street meant she made it home in record time.

Her bath called, and, somewhere, buried within her conscious mind, she hoped  _Daniel_  would too. She had, after all, left her number on a folded note under his preferred reading choice. She used it as a bookmark, placing slim fountain pen upon it, so it didn't blow off.

She'd left the man her house phone, doubting he'd have a smartphone. He didn't seem the type. Daniel wasn't one for social media, gatherings, parties and the like.

There was something. He hadn't mentioned _any_  family. Aubrey had no rhyme nor reason to ask him something so personal, so, she didn't.

She had no right to quiz him on his life, his comings and goings.

The woman decided to make some cocoa, run a hot bath, slip inside the waters, book in hand perhaps?

 _Perhaps_.

Something, not so _innocent_. Not wanting to admit it, Daniel's presence, seeming interest in her garnered  _reactions_  from her body, her mind, visceral, hopefully not too visceral. She wanted him to see  _coyness,_  a tad shy, a glint of internal coursing feelings.

Was she really so  _base_?

An ever warming abdomen confirmed that.

_Clearly._

She sighed, throwing off clothes in all directions, heading into the bathroom.

* * *

Slipping into warm waves, honeyed suds with hues of mango was sheer bliss, heavenly.

She had a small table beside the bath, mug on a coaster, navy bookmark next to it, silver threaded throughout.

The book she had chosen was _forgotten_  after a few moments, in favour of relaxation, combined with sips of delicious chocolate.

Her mind could fill in any  _blanks_ , treading not so lightly into erotica.

Nothing wrong with letting the imagination run wild for a while. Let it  _off_  its lead.

* * *

Aubrey slipped into bed around midnight, late nights a rarity, replaced by early mornings.  _Pitifully_  early, stressful. But, she sighed, that was work, that was being an 'adult' for you. Couldn't act like a child when bills called, rent hollered  _and_  food beckoned.

Should she feel  _needy_  for wanting someone to talk to, who wasn't a _woman_? Someone, who, intellectually  _challenged_  her? Margot did too, of course, but Aubrey liked that someone  _new_  was in her life.

The fact he was a  _man_  didn't matter. Not one iota.

_Nope._

_Not at all._

...

* * *

Her brain would have slapped her upside the head if it could have left her head without instantly  _snuffing_  out her flame.

 _Okay,_  she relented, _it does._

 _Body_  wise?

She tilted her head.

_A bit._

The man wasn't thin, nor broad. Not short, not too tall in stature. Had a neck, not something block-like, his arms not boulders stuffed under skin, though not wiry, veins raised.

She snorted into her mug, swallowing the last of the sweet brew.

 _I apologise, Daniel (_ not that he was there, his ears wouldn't hear her manners)  _but, sometimes a girl needs something more than just kinky words. I bet he'd laugh, that sultry baritone, pretend he knows nada about these things. Please,_  she laughed,  _of course you do._

She furtively stopped her hand sloping down.

_If I can look you in the eye, next I see you, it'll be a miracle..._


	8. Chapter 8

_Two months later_

Aubrey, Daniel and Margot were at the printing warehouse, watching the press print off the first few copies of 'Grenadine'. The smell of ink and metal lingered in the air, something the three found nostalgic.

Margot found her gaze shifting between her secretary and the librarian. The _smiles_  he gave her? The way her face  _bloomed_  red tulip? No  _wisecracks_  from her? This had her boss snickering into her scarf.

* * *

"I  _see_ ", Margot whispered after some time, moving spectacles down her nose, "its strange, seeing you,  _grinning_  from ear to ear. Tell me I'm seeing things"...

Daniel piped up from the other side of the room.

"You're  _seeing_  things".

He heard that? Margot visibly moved backwards. Aubrey spluttered laughter, patting her boss on the shoulder.

"See?  _Sharp_ ".

"Yes", her boss sighed, "as a tack. I fear my intellect is  _severely_  undermined next to yours, Mr Hurst".

Daniel walked over fluidly, shaking his head.

"Not at all. Merely, I tend to be faster on the draw, is all. A woman of your aptitude for detail far  _exceeds_  my abilities".

Margot blushed.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere. However, seeing a new  _manuscript_  will".

Aubrey snickered.

" _Straight_  down to business".

Daniel admired the trait.

"I adore that. No need for flowery adornments when you can skip right to the front".

Aubrey concurred.

"Straight to the  _punchline_ ".

"So", the man sidled on over, "any idea as to when my work shall be published in bulk?"

Aubrey imitated his accent, bedizen, as she heard verbatim.

"Oh dear! We cannot _possibly_  have delays! No folly, no dilly-dallying. Pip pip, workers! Onward to getting my work out there, and onto the shelves of Waterstones,  _toot sweet_!"

Daniel's eyes mirrored smug satisfaction. Margot, upon seeing it left the room as quickly as she could, with the dexterity of a mouse up a drainpipe, running from a cat...

* * *

"Well now". Daniel followed the older woman's path. "That didn't take quite as long as I thought it would".

Aubrey made a face.

"Isn't that rather mean?" She didn't quite agree with the idea of the man getting 'rid' of her boss, also her  _friend_. "What's with the 'I'm on a butcher's hook' and you are the  _butcher_  look. I've seen that before. To tell you the truth? Its a bit _frightening_ ".

She picked up her bag.

"Going to go after her".

Daniel sighed.

"I did not mean for Margot to leave. She left of her own accord. She knows more than she lets on".

Aubrey nodded.

"Yes, still doesn't sit right though".

The man moved back, face usual impassive, eyes neutral.

The secretary took her purse, leaving for the door.

* * *

"I  _know_  that look, too, Daniel. Not used to getting it without an  _agenda_ , not a pretty one either".

Blues sharpened immediately.

"Do you mean to say I would  _harm_  you? I would not".

Stern turn of voice worried the woman.

"Not  _you_. Just", she turned, facing him bravely, "that was the look in the past that signalled a guy  _wasn't_  taking no for an answer. Now, please don't believe I think you mean me harm of any kind. I don't. I wouldn't think that. If you mean it, mean it.  _Own_  it. Don't do it, leave me hanging, cause I  _will_ let go of the damn rope and walk away".

Daniel wished to approach her. He kept his distance out of respect.

"I do nothing by  _halves_ ".

" _All in_  or nothing. A bit does fuck all,  _trust_  me".

Daniel let out a slight tut.

"I do. I also understand that all at once can  _hurt_  a woman, and, again, that is not how I play. I play fairly. We talk over rules far in advance of any games. There isn't  _any_  room for cheating, playing the field makes me  _yawn"_.

Aubrey swivelled around, bag in both hands, held at her middle section.

"Firstly, you're  _damn_  right. That's how I play. Scares off  _boys_ , wanton strays. If I wanted to sleep with a vagrant...", she trailed off. "Secondly, did you  _tut_  me? The only disapproving sound I wish to hear some any man is if he sees me, legs akimbo, in front of a mirror, because its awkward shaving _certain_  bits. Also, if I accidentally use hair removal cream down there again". She grimaced. "Don't do that. It works, smooth as really, but it stung like I had a portal to a level of  _Hell_  down there"...

Daniel mockingly rolled his eyes.

"I could have worked out which 'bits' you refer too, then you went and  _told_  me. Burning  _any_ part of your anatomy is not highly recommended"...

"No shit, Sherlock. Should I get you his tweed cap whilst I'm at it?"

"Don't forget the  _heroin_  needle. I do believe I have a few bands in my car...".

Aubrey squeaked.

"Fuck you, do not laugh at that  _noise_! Just", she held her head, "fucking hell.  _How_  do you do that?"

Daniel raised a brow, appearing to not  _understand_  the question.

"Rile me, then  _ease_  it? Its like you throw hot water over me, then dunk me into cold. I end up shivering, peeved, but strangely intrigued. Not too hot though, I burn easily". She put down her purse, unbuttoning and raising her sleeve. "Irish skin. Not too cold either, I despise feeling as my digits are about to drop off, skitter about the floor, under the  _floorboards_ , the couch and such".

The man skipped to the heart of the matter in three seconds flat...

* * *

"So, in here then? Not _too_  hot, not  _too_  cold. though I bet it can get cooler at night, three-hundred year old building work"...

Grey eyes glittered, entertained at the topic.

"Ah! I was wondering when the topic of your penis being put in a hole of mine, at some point. Lovely way of phrasing it though. Makes a big difference to a sweaty bastard, who hasn't heard of water saying, 'fancy a shag'? No, dear Sir. I do not". Aubrey scanned the space. "In here? Never! Its drafty, sounds  _echo_  too. Wouldn't live that down. Just because you are boiling doesn't mean I don't feel  _chills_ ".

Out of all of that, that impassioned  _speech_ , the librarian took one thing, and one thing only.

* * *

"Are you saying that I'm hot?"

Aubrey groaned.

"No!" Her frustration ebbed quickly. "Savannah said you were. I said 'distinguished'. Clearly, I was wrong".

The man tilted his head curiously, as a dog would.

"But, no". She chuckled darkly. "You want to mate with me here.  _Here!_  I mean, come on".

"We would be, if things  _were_  happening".

"I am not 'plain sailing'. You can  _wait_. You want simple? There's a bar round the corner, I met my ex there". The woman let out a bitter sigh. "That should tell you a lot".

"I  _wouldn't_  take your for granted. I fear your opinion of yourself prevents my affection from truly getting through. Please, you see yourself as less than you are".

Aubrey folded her arms around herself.

"You are right. I let you in so far, then stop you. You need no stopping, you _stop_  yourself. Never overstep my boundaries. I apologise if I seem frustrated, It isn't at you, its myself. I am currently moving to my new apartment. Can I have some time alone?"

The man acknowledged her request.

"I am where I usually will be, if you wish to talk. No pressure".

Daniel held up his hands.

"The library. Don't you have a home?"

"The library  _is_  my home. However, I have residence opposite it".

Aubrey bowed graciously.

"Thank you". She smiled, walking over, offering a hand. Her friend took it.

"Take  _care_  of yourself. I have witnessed others, and whilst kind to put other before yourself, it can cause _irreparable_  damage. I don't wish to see that with  _you_ ".

The woman's cheeks were budding roses, her face twisted with slight bewilderment. She stood on tiptoes.

"Why do you smell like pennies?"

Daniel was taken aback by that, thrown off. He couldn't tell her the truth. Not  _yet_. He deemed her a moral, grounded person, someone who wouldn't  _judge_  him, his habits.

Still, he kept his secret to himself, for the time being.

* * *

"Its my tiepin. Your head is in line with it. It was passed down through generations of my family. Sadly, its seen better days and has begun to rust".

The brunette tipped his head, chin on her forehead. Aubrey huffed.

"Head rest for tall people?"

"Rest for the  _weary_ ".

She looked up, despite looking at the man's throat, not into his eyes.

"Weary? Need to rest? No good, working yourself to the bone. Wouldn't want you typing with _stubs_ , now".

Daniel sighed.

"Yes. Rest. I sorely need my bed". He grabbed his jacket, slipping it over his arms, giving Aubrey hers. "May I walk you to the station?"

The secretary bundled herself up in jacket fabric.

"Thought you'd say 'home' then".

"Please", he waved a long, slim hand, "I like to think myself as less 'creepy', more protective, to a fault".

Aubrey blinked slowly, soft grace in her movements.

"You can, if I can link your arm with mine. Call it soppy, but it helps me feel  _secure_. I need that in my life".

Daniel offered his arm as the two headed towards the factory exit.

"Security keeps us safe, but can mask things we really ought to  _see_ "...

* * *

Three months later found the three in Waterstones, on Tottenham Court Road, huge shelf of Grenadine before them, its cover a scarlet sheet, crinkled from hands clutching it.

"Go on then, _hotshot_. You're going to need many pens".

Aubrey handed Daniel a pack of them. He pulled out his fountain pen, the same elegant filegree patterned one the secretary admired months ago, in the library.

"Ever the classy gent. Can't possibly use Biros.  _Commoners_  use those, aka, moi". She took one out, sticking it between her teeth. "Yes, this is rather cheap, and you, Sir, do not strike me the  _cheap_  sort. I'm off. Good luck with the launch".

Daniel called her bluff.

"And, yes, this pen means I  _documented_  your number. I did not call because I thought it impertinent".

"Wouldn't have given you it had I thought it that,  _dear_ ".

She tilted her head.

"You'll be needing plenty of tea though", she looked out of the storefront window, "that crowd is  _huge_ ".

Daniel passing his cup to her over his shoulder did not go down well.

"Sigh. Guess I'd better be old tea lady, slip in hair rollers and an apron. Do mind squirming women", greys scanned the room, twenty women stood before him, "some of them look to have already  _sorted_  themselves out"...

If the man was drinking anything, he'd have choked, dripped milky beverage over an open book.

He merely let her comment slide, getting back to signing.

* * *

Aubrey pulled devilish grins at the distasteful glares she received for being at Daniel's side.

 _Yes,_  she gloated internally, small victory,  _I get to stand THIS side, and you don't. Boo hoo, honey. Lay off the makeup next time. Looks like you headbutted a makeup counter._

The woman in question looked down her nose, sneering prominent in frown lines.

"Well, go on then.  _Tea_?"

Daniel followed the sound, looking at the lady himself.

"Oh? Are _you_  offering?" He kept his tone as cool as a cucumber. Nothing would shake that  _resolve_ , no matter how much the women before him hitched up their skirts...

* * *

"Little milk, one sugar, preferably demerara. Aubrey?" She stepped forward with mention of her name. "She is Margot Parson's secretary, and my associate. I would prefer it if you did not put yourself on a pedestal and Aubrey on the  _floor_. And, yes", he kept on after her eyes turned venomous, "I _will_  call you out on it. If you think yourself better, higher up, you're setting yourself up for a fall. I would know, I have seen it _far_  too many times in my lifetime".

Aubrey stood, in awe of the man, defending her, as if she had 'honour' and he were a prince, vigour and valour fuelling his actions.

 _Lifetime_? Again, an odd choice of phrase. Daniel spoke as if he came from 20th century England, like a proper English gentlemen. That made zero sense in her mind, though, she found she had a fondness for 'old world' speak. It was literate, sounding far better than 'U wot m8', or 'DTF' (those particular acronyms twisting her tongue, baiting her with acerbic sweeties that she wished to spit out).

* * *

"Past indiscretion aside?" Daniel waved a hand, offering it to the woman. "Yes,  _past_. I am not one for pettiness, grudges are pointless".

The lady's beady verging on jet black eyes narrowed. She shook the author's hand cautiously. Aubrey wondered whether or not to reciprocate, the woman's actions failing to have her flinch, feel backed into a corner.

The secretary tentatively raised her left hand, non-dominant. She would be civil, though the woman would not derive anything from shaking her dominant hand.

The woman shook it immediately, scowl dropping to attrition.

"Women shouldn't be fighting one another. Should stand side-by-side, unity. Its not like  _anyone_  else will do that for us".

Aubrey disagreed, the woman obviously trying to rile her against the male of the species.

Not Daniel, however. Funnily enough, the cement faced bimbo would give  _him_  a pass.

He would hand that pass back, likely having _laminated_  it, making sure all  _creases_  were smoothed out, and written a  _note_  to go with it.

He was flattered, but would have to turn her _down._..

* * *

"Glad that is over. All is said and done. Been needing to use the restroom since  _six_...".

Aubrey cleared away the tea tray, small packets of sugar ever elusive to her grasp.

"You could have gone. You're human. At some point, after eight cups of tea, we'd  _all_  need to go. I would have  _corralled_  the wild animals, no worries".

She held out her hands cheekily, waving them a tad.

"Try to aim, won't you? Seems some men can aim into  _someone's_  hole, but not  _something's_  hole. Bet that wrist is  _sore_  though".

Daniel held up his hands on the way to the back room.

"Ambidextrous".

Aubrey rolled her eyes just as the door opened and closed.

_Of course you are..._

* * *

Margot long since left, Aubrey finished cleaning alone, not too fussed about the time. It neared ten in the evening. She'd already eaten, and her apartment was spotless, so she didn't go home to a mess. She now lived three streets down from the publishing house, so had much more time in the mornings to fully wake up, actually enjoy the start of the day.

She now sat on her couch, watching the sun rise on occasion, cup of herbal tea in hand. Being naturally a grumpy person faded away with time, enjoying the little things became natural, not a chore. She decided now that, instead of dreading her entering the fortieth year of her life, she would celebrate it. Have her cake  _and_  eat it. Sod what dietitians said about being over a certain age meant you can get fat. Fat was  _subjective_.

There wasn't anything wrong with having a _few_  extra pounds, not in her book.

_Speaking of books..._

* * *

Aubrey potted on over to the stock room computer, typing in 'Grenadine'. All a thousand books had been sold, plus a further five hundred online, on the same day of release. She grinned, turning to face the back room door as it opened.

"Grinning like a madwoman, with her hands behind her back. Should I be  _worried_?"

Aubrey shrugged.

"Well, I have the weight advantage, not the height, so, maybe?"

She shared the good news.

"Was looking at the sales figures. All copies of Grenadine sold out today, and five-hundred online. Projections are it'll sell out completely by tomorrow online. We need more stockists, but, with these figures, that should be fairly simple. You did brilliantly", the woman spoke earnestly, "really pleased for you. I finished the book, by the way".

"And what did you think?"

"Me?" Aubrey gave an air of tumult. "I see why its called Grenadine. Crushed velvet drapes used as sheets to cover bare pale skin, decorated in  _carmine_  light, with hints of  _ruby_  shadowing her lips. Calling it 'Red' would have done it disservice, personally. Can't sleep on velvet, I find it slides off, especially if I've just shaved...".

Daniel let her carry on, feasting upon her bluntness with conviction.

"And, us women know about _red_. Yes. I wish that would hurry up and end too. Dull pain is the worst. It isn't quite a pinch, but it  _lingers_ , right where you can do fuck all about it. Anyway", she proclaimed, "you took  _ages_  in there. I've noticed men take forever in bathrooms. It can't always be for, well, pulling the chain, right?"

She backtracked, walking towards the desk Daniel used to sign his books.

"I should move this back", she looked around, "there. If you're wrists aren't  _too_  knackered, care to help a girl out?"

Daniel gave her that smouldering ice stare that felt like he was  _soldering_  into her chest.

"Girl?  _Woman_ , surely".

Aubrey agreed, picking up one half of the table. Daniel took the other.

"Yes. Not some sixteen year old,  _fawning_  over an older guy".

She winked, walking in step with the man.

"Not quite. A  _thirty-nine_  year old woman, fawning over an older man. Slight  _difference_ ".

Aubrey snorted, having to keep her focus on the realigning the table legs onto their assigned stickers on the tiled floor.

"How old  _are_  you, exactly? Don't mind me asking, do you?"

"You wouldn't have said 'don't mind' if you thought I  _would_ ". He placed his half down, Aubrey doing the same. Dusting their hands off, the man took some time to answer.

"Damn", the secretary looked stunned, "that one has you all discombobulated. Its alright", she waved him off, "doesn't matter. We're  _adults_ , that's what matters".

Daniel paused, not from lack of will to answer her, but the overbearing perturbation of answering her  _honestly_.

Five hundred and eighty six wasn't your  _stereotypical_  answer...

* * *

He went with the age he was when he perished.

"Forty-Five".

"And there's me thinking you'd say  _eighty_ ".

Daniel's face turned devoid of anything, impassively built, his arms folding.

"Woah, THAT went down like a lead balloon". Aubrey scuttled back. "I was joking". She held up her claws. "Let me make it up? Wine bar?"

"I don't drink... _wine_ ".

He breathed through his nose, irritated huffs.

"Uhh, huh". The woman's brain scrambled for something that would placate the offended male. "Bourbon? I have a bottle of single malt at home. Its up to you. Its okay if you want to say no".

"Rum, and my abode has quite the collection of it, amassed over years". The man dropped his arms to his sides, stepping towards her as if gliding through liquid. He made treading water look effortless. "I know you were toying with me. I was seeing how you'd handle my,  _less_  than charming side".

Aubrey called his bluff.

" _Tantrum_ , you mean. Old man, that is definitely, 100% _all_  kinds of unattractive. I almost want to tut you, maybe smack your arse". She coughed. "What? I'd need a stepladder to hit you in the shoulder. The perils of wearing flats".

"My less than charming side is telling me that, if you smacked my arse, yours is _fair_  game".

"Fair enough. I'll take your up on your offer of rum. Spiced rum is a favourite of mine. Used to drink that with my Dad, long ago"...

"As did I, an even  _longer_  time ago. I'll grab my coat".

Aubrey took out her phone.

"I'll call a taxi. Also, you slap my arse? I'd put you on  _yours_. Not here, though. I don't do public displays of affection. I do  _private_ displays of it".

Daniel's chuckles grew further away as she opened the door, stepping outside.

* * *

_Mental note. Did I put on my ridiculously obvious 'devour me' underwear set on?_

She took a peek, seeing that she had, indeed.

_Huh. I'm trying for once._

Another, self-loathing part kicked her whilst she dared stand up.

_Reaching, you mean._

She drew a breath, calling the taxi right now was a 'fuck you' to her inner arsehole, who continued to whittle away at her and her confidence, as if she shouldn't have any. The fact Daniel could stand to be in the same _room_  as her, hold conversation with her, not just 'yeses' and 'nos'? That gave her a huge boost.

She was only going to the man's home for a drink, she had gotten to know him, fairly well, at least. Was it really so terrible for her to crave _intellectual_  conversation, drink in hand, with someone  _strikingly_  handsome to boot?

No. It  _wasn't._

* * *

She answered the operator, telling her her location with glee. There were glimmers, glimmers of potential there?

Somewhere, in her fragility, Daniel had found a solution to seal those cracks. He didn't paper over them. He  _glued_  them, holding the pieces together until they bonded.

_If anything, I've made a true friend._

She nodded, to herself, slipping her phone back into her purse.


	9. Chapter 9

Daniel's apartment wasn't as palatial as Aubrey had thought it would be. Chocolate box pallete was appreciated, decor coffee creams, varying shades of richness, not too bitter on her tongue. Open plan, living room come kitchen, two doors on the walls to her right.

"I should become a librarian", the woman teased, "wasn't aware they made so much  _money_ ".

"They  _don't_ ". Daniel replied, as smooth as the velvet drapes drawn across the bay window. Aubrey snorted.

"Drug mule? No. I can't see you with drugs up your arse, or swallowing a condom with pills in it, hoping it doesn't burst, thus,  _killing_  you".

"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you  _stronger_ ".

That snort became snaffling.

"My God, by all that's unholy". She chirped. "You're something else _entirely_ ". The rest was a mumble. "I have yet to decide whether or not I  _like_  that"...

"Matter-of-fact, I have been known to procure rare bottles of bourbon, cognac and such, for  _acquaintances_ ". The man extended slender index finger towards a cabinet in the corner of the living space. "I have seven bottles here, three in the library".

The brunette woman tapped her nose knowingly, regaining a modicum of composure.

"Ah! So, _that's_  how you pass the time in there". She went there. "Sound a bit of an alcoholic, though, so do I, the way I talk. I don't quite get to slurring stage, don't like the feeling".

" _I_  can handle my liquor, thank you very much. I've had time to learn how to hold it".

" _Keep_  it in, not let it out. Never been sick from alcohol, unable to drink the amount to do that. That's nice of you, to do that for, acquaintances, did you say? Do you not have  _friends_? You don't give off loner nor life and soul of the party. Bit of an  _enigma_ , I'd say".

Daniel took some tumblers from a cupboard.

"I prefer it that way. Without an air of mystery, I find people rather _dull_. If I wanted their life story, I'd ask".

Aubrey waved her hand.

"Its a little late for me to be drinking. I'll pass, thanks".

"I  _asked_ ".

Daniel's statement had the secretary's feet itch to flee, her legs priming themselves. She combated that by taking off her boots, curling her legs under her, sinking into the couch.

"Fine, but I've changed my mind. I'll need the  _bottle_ , sod the glass".

Daniel smirked, taking the glasses with him anyway...

* * *

"Hey, Mr Harsh?" Aubrey waved her hands. "I said  _no_  glass. Tch. Whatever, you jagged edged,  _strange_  bloke indeed".

Daniel sat opposite her, placing the glasses carefully onto coasters on the glass table.

"Where'd  _that_  come from?"

He kept one glass further back from the other, keeping it prisoner.

"Judge, jury", Aubrey rattled off, grin positively  _Cheshire_ , " _executioner_  too, the way you are  _squeezing_  that glass". She tilted her head and mouth downward. "What do I mean? Well, 'people are rather dull' huh? I think exactly the same way. Of course, you can't tell them that, they get  _upset_ ".

She coughed. "Right, what would you like to know?"

Daniel released the glass.

"Obvious questions incoming".

"As long as they aren't quickfire, we're good".

* * *

They were,  _damn_  the man.

"Date of birth?"

"7th August, 1978".

"Birthplace?"

"Camden, London". She shook her head. "Ask me for a _passport_  photo next? Am I filling in a form for an ID card or something?"

The librarian smiled, moustache twitching.

"Make a fake passport in your name? Give it to someone in need? You've caught onto my _ruse_ ".

Aubrey pat herself on the back.

"Say that to  _all_  the girls?"

"Only the ones foolish enough to come here, be  _alone_  with me".

The secretary feigned terror.

"This couch is lovely, rather soft and comfy. Don't ruin it by staining it with  _blood_ ".

"Oh, I wouldn't", Daniel mused, "blood is awfully  _hard_  to get out, stains easily".

"Oh, I  _know_ , don't need to tell me", Aubrey muttered, pushing out her bottom lip. She continued earlier conversation. "Derrick Dawkins, Amie Groves-Dawkins, I studied in the University of York, got a degree in Journalism, a Master's in admin, and I spent my spare time in the library, reading up on history, science, literary greats. Various names caught my eye, though I bet you have a  _wealth_  of knowledge over me, in that regard".

Azure shores observed her, waves relaxed, the man's demeanour easy. Despite his words, Aubrey didn't see any red flags, her mind did not flash scarlet before her eyes. Lowering her tone, she continued answering unasked questions.

* * *

"No kids, never been maternal, last relationship was four years ago, not in any way political, though it gets to me when people get shafted, all because they have low paying jobs. I love cats, rabbits, most animals really. I dislike spiders, but won't kill them. They came inside from terrible weather to _live_ , not get murdered by a shoe, splatted by newspaper".

Daniel fell quiet, his mind elsewhere. Aubrey, moving slowly grabbed the bottle of rum, took a glass, pouring spiced liquid afterwards. She sipped it, heat bloomed pleasantly in her chest. She kept respectfully quiet, musing, finger tracing diamond glass indentations, painted nail cobalt contrast to honeyed fluid.

* * *

"I cannot answer much, without  _lying_."

Aubrey shrugged.

"Eh, as long as your name is Daniel, you don't have _bodies_  under the floorboards, skeletons in the closet,  _conveniently_  placed kitchen roll and  _tarp_  lying around, I couldn't care less. I'm signing my  _own_  death warrant, sweetie". She winked. "Let me finish this first, pretty  _please_?"

Daniel grinned pearly whites, nodding.

"I still find myself intrigued however.  _Damn_  my curiosity!"

The man waved a hand, silver ring on his ring finger catching the light, glinting soft edges.

"Inquire away. I promise I will answer as  _honestly_  and earnestly".

"Kids?"

Aubrey went straight for the jugular, the librarian's Adam's Apple bobbing.

"Three sons. Last relationship was seven years ago, her name was Justina".

 _I had three sons. They're long dead._  His mind dredged up horrible memories, the man having to wade through  _sludge_  in order to voice his mind.  _A Father shouldn't outlive his children..._

"Three sons, they  _died_  some time ago".

Aubrey's face fell.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. If you wanted to speak on it, you would have".

She sipped the beverage, savouring warmth, sliding down her throat, welcoming.

"See?  _This_  is why I needed this. I blurt out things, without thinking a lot of the time. I'll finish this and leave".

Daniel shook his head.

"You weren't to know. It wasn't your fault. It was  _mine_. I should have been there, caring for them. I was away, on  _business_ ".

 _Poenari Fortress,_  he recalled,  _the Turks were attacking. It was 1462, I barely escaped with my life. I returned home to find my sons dead in their beds, my wife in chains, bleeding out in a cell Radu had constructed in my absence._

Bitterness lingered for the one he once called 'brother', the one he once _loved_ , looked up too.

"My life at the time was hectic. I had to be in several places at the same time, have eyes in the back of my head. My skull is not equipped for that, nor my neck able to turn like an owl's. I was oblivious, missed now  _obvious_  signs matters were amiss. I  _deeply_  regret that".

Daniel did not look sad. He sat in repose, bringing vice to his lips.

* * *

The secretary had no response, no witty retort to take the man's thoughts off the deaths of his children.

"The mood is dour, I've cast a cloud over proceedings, let it darken the space. It will  _ruin_  my carpets with droplets of water, if I continue".

Aubrey snorted, masking it through amber glass. The man let puzzlement grace his sleek features for a moment.

"You  _can_  speak, Aubrey. I hold no ill towards you. Your company is appreciated, I assure you. I've little contact with people". Grey orbs returned his bewilderment. His became rapscallion. "I work in a library. People from all walks of life enter, pick out some books, have them time stamped, then leave. They do not wish to  _speak_ , visitor numbers are down too. I fear the world has  _abandoned_  books, in favour of flashy, shiny gadgets in their hands. Many novels of today leave nothing to the imagination, or are downright  _obscene_. What of the classics, that are only in _paper_  form? With grooved leather covers, metallic underlined titles, the slight must from years of handling? Have we become _obtuse_  to the past? The events written up, that shape our  _today_?"

"That we have. We'd rather live in a world of blinding screens, atrocious architecture and create moronic quandaries than get off our _arses_ , visit somewhere I consider homely as a library, a museum. When I was a child, my family would take me to the National History Museum frequently", she chuckled, "so much so, the staff knew my name. The 'Ye Old Sweet Shoppe' owner would give me a free candy cane in my bag sometimes.  _Marshmallow_  flavoured. I wasn't allowed much in the way of sweets. That was _my_  little treat,  _our_  day out. That's all but  _gone_  now, families would rather shove  _tablets_  in their kids hands whilst they mindlessly watch television, in favour of going out, getting some air. I sound old, but, I think that's utterly  _atrocious_ ".

If she had a cap, she would doff it.

_Penny for your thoughts?_

Wryness wrapped around the rim of the tumbler as she drank.

_You can keep your pennies. Rainy day fund. Might need it, in case sunny boy's carpet does, indeed end up soaked..._

* * *

Daniel offered up the bottle.

"Another? A cheer, celebration for our abject  _defiance_  of societal constructs?"

Aubrey eagerly nodded, holding up her glass.

"Misery _loves_  company"...

* * *

Eleven pm rolled around, time whizzing by in the blink of whirring grey eyes. Daniel handled his liquor better, helping the woman up, retrieving her coat. He went into his room, taking out leather gloves and a scarf from his wardrobe, offering them kindly.

"It'll be icy out there. Take these".

Aubrey's cheeks reddened. She'd attribute that to alcohol, not the man stood, offering garments before her.

"Thank you". Aubrey zipped up her jacket halfway, taking the scarf, wrapping it around her neck, the scent of exquisite cologne tickling her nose. She fully zipped her parka, taking the gloves next. "Going to be a gent?" She scoffed, slipping digits into aged leather. "Pish, _fuck_  that. Please don't. Don't be a halfwit, one brain cell  _caveman_ , but don't  _overdo_  it.  _I_  can open doors,  _fix_  household appliances,  _drive_  too".

Daniel tilted his head nonchalantly, nipping his lower lip audaciously.

"No rides, no handy-man, no opening doors.  _Got it_ ".

Aubrey smirked.

"Depends on what the handy-man is doing. I'm not an easy job. Leave the wrenches, bolts alone. Bring the  _nuts_. Also,  _chocolate_.  _Always_  chocolate".

Daniel traipsed into the kitchenette, opening a cupboard, removing an uneaten gift of hazelnut chocolate from an old lady, one the man grew fond of. Her gentle voice, tottering steps, walking stick outstretched made the man smile. She'd given him the bar as a Christmas present. Whilst he did not eat chocolate, or eat at  _all_ , he took it graciously, taking her hand, squeezing it lightly. Her soothing brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, waving goodbye.

* * *

"Its unopened".

Aubrey looked at the bar.

"Who eats  _whole-nut_  chocolate? And hahaha! You'd have used the rum, were you to _drug_  me. I feel fine! A bit woozy, but that's because I got up at five am to get a shower, make myself look half  _decent_  for the book signing".

"For the book signing? Makeup and making your hair up is for Miss Pierce, no? You wouldn't do that for the  _public_. You want people to accept you as you, _warts_  and all".

The woman cracked up.

"All I need is the wort on my nose".

"Did you do all that preparation for  _me?_ "

Aubrey nodded, truths slipping out like eels. She huffed.

"For the first time in a while, I feel _happier,_  I want to reflect that. So, I am trying to look acceptable. Can only look like a wicked witch for so long, before I  _get_  the wart"...

Daniel disagreed.

"My words earlier? They are certainly true, steadfast. I would rather see a woman's real face than a crude Madame Tussauds  _replica_. I prefer the you I met in the office. That was  _you,_  no matter how blue you believe you looked. I am paler than you, my dear, lest you believe you look dead. I truly  _am_  dead, in that regard".

"You baffle me", Aubrey pointed, index finger accusatory, "and you  _know_  it. Besides", she countered, "your skin is  _warm_. Why would it be, were you  _dead_?"

Daniel _corrected._..

**_Lied..._ **

"At Death's door, then".

Aubrey ooohed.

"Don't say that. Worry me, that will". A cursory glance at her phone spoke half eleven. "Have I been talking about nonsensical _shit_  for the past half hour? Sorry".

She sighed, palming her forehead.

"I understood every word. You are a _linguistic_  drunk. I will call you a cab. Stay here, the lobby can get rather nippy in Winter".

The secretary mimed.

"How posh. A 'lobby' in your apartment complex.  _Linguini_  sounds lovely right about now...".

* * *

Daniel got off the phone.

"I take that  _back_ ".

"Too late!" The woman stuck out her tongue. "Already  _proclaimed_  it". She placed the chocolate in her purse. "You do _not_  stand corrected".

"Would you like some water?"

Aubrey waved her hands, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"I've had enough. Any more, and I'll  _piss_  myself. Not quite proper etiquette, for a  _lady_ ".

"I would think not for a  _man_  either. Could you pass me the glasses?"

She wasn't in his way, from what she could tell, but figured she'd be  _useful_ , only having to move a _few_  inches, her tad inebriated mind able to perform the task.

She moved her upper half towards the table, lower half glued to the couch. Reaching for the glasses, she surreptitiously wrapped her hands around them, daintily handing them to her host. He took them, placing them in the sink. His phone rang, taxi call-back.

"I'll be off with the thought of you in  _marigolds_ ".

Daniel put the articles in the sink, spinning around to face her, dish cloth in hand.

"So, that is your  _tipping_  point, hmm?"

"What makes me  _tick_? Find  _that_  out yourself"...

"A  _challenge_? In your current state? I would not try. I shall walk with you".

"I'll take the lift. Wobbling down stairs wouldn't be the best of ideas, even I, in my current state  _know_  that".

"It wasn't a  _request_ ".

Aubrey squinted.

"Okay,  _snooty_. You can walk me out".

Daniel grabbed a suit jacket, his keys, slipping his phone in his back pocket.

* * *

"Give me a call when you get home".

Daniel said, opening the taxi door.

" _Three rings_? Damn", Aubrey laughed, "you  _are_  old. Also, you actually took note of my number? I thought you'd be like, 'Of course I would', then  _never_  would".

"I'd lie?" He'd already lied. More would further complicate matters. The truth would obliterate those matters, sending them flying, a billion pieces scattered to the wind. "There are things I could not tell you, but I  _will_ ".

He moved down, the woman grateful the driver was busy on his phone...

"I believe you can  _handle_  it".

If she  _tilted_  her head...

"Murderer?  _Worse_  than that?"

"The former? I have been called that, of  _literature_ , in my first drafts of Grenadine. I was  _laughed_  out of a publisher six months ago".

"Really? Its  _really_  good". She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I ought to be leaving. Wait. How can I call you if you have  _my_  number, not the  _other_  way around?"

Daniel relished in Aubrey's confusion.

"I have 'text' you mine".

The secretary looked at her phone.

"Oh yeah. Got you". She put her phone back into her purse. "See you sometime, I'll leave that  _open_  ended".

Daniel nodded, moving away gracefully.

He shut the door, reentering his apartment complex.

* * *

Daniel decided to go to retire soon, training himself to sleep at night, not during the day. Prolonged absence would raise  _suspicion,_  the man having centuries of being 'sneaky' under his belt. Suspicion worried him little, his nature contained within  _steel_  walls, iron bar cage. Phasing him was _impossible_. Blood lust died, replaced with regular  _donor_  feeds, bags of crimson life stored away in his freezer.

If Aubrey had looked in the fridge, she'd find no  _food._  His food wasn't  _hers_ , sustaining him went beyond sugar, carbohydrates. He needed protein,  _platelets_.

Aubrey needed  _time_ , likely thinking him a liar, a  _madman_ , a thief, a  _murderer_. He was all of these and  _more_.

He could only wish she'd use her time wisely, as he had his. Think on  _who_  he was, not what he was. He did not ask to be this way, a vampire. He _asked_  to die, was given that, only to have its ice cold fingers pulled from him, its claws  _dragging_  wounds across his back.

Blood for blood, Radu's debt was not paid. It weighted heavily on Daniel's mind, in times of solitude, _crisis_.

Aubrey, he would ask her if she wished to hear his _true_  story, his beginnings. If she didn't, he'd understand. His past wasn't the prettiest flower. It was one  _splattered_  with carmine, no longer pure. It smelt of  _pungent_  lethargy, repressed  _rage_ , sweat built up from _torture_.

He sighed, closing blues, solemnly taking to cleaning duties, before readying himself for bed.


	10. Chapter 10

"My name isn't Daniel Hurst".

The now  _unnamed_  man said, sitting on Aubrey's couch, cup of oolong in hand.

"Figured that. Most authors don't use their  _birth_  name".

Aubrey sat at the kitchen table behind him, her own hands wrapped around a cup of chamomile.

"It is nowhere  _near_  my birth name".

Aubrey got the feeling she should have been taking this more  _serious_  than blasé...

"Okay. Is it  _that_  bad?"

Daniel's name invoked  _provocation_ , his truth not that of a 'normal' civilian. He'd made the decision to tell her, scepticism plain in her features, that the man knew.

He paused, restrained, starting with the basics.

* * *

"My name is Vlad III Tepes, given the moniker Dracul after joining The Order Of The Dragon. I do not recall my  _true_  birth date, only the year, 1431. I was murdered in 1476".

Aubrey remained stoic.

"I was  _right_  about the age you look then. I do  _enjoy_  being right".

"My brother Radu had my sons murdered, my wife imprisoned. I was  _forced_  to imbibe blood of the first true evil, summoned from blood sacrifice by myself. I murdered thousands without mercy, believing it for the  _greater_  good of Wallachia, Southern Carpathian. I was wrong. It was  _mindless_ , I was tricked by my _own_  family, the demon summoned turned me into what modern day historians call 'the _first_  vampire'". He grinned. "I am the first, the _only_. I cannot procreate as my body is  _dead_ , my heart ceased beating long ago, blood no longer fills my veins, organs rendered useless. I would not be surprised if they are  _rotted_  from the inside out".

His fellow wasn't quite sure what to say here, deeming apologetic niceties pointless.

"That's,  _unpleasant_ "...

" _I_  am unpleasant. Historians were right to see me as a _menace_  for decades. However, I have not attacked  _any_  human, nor animal, no one is my 'prey'. I sought donors over the years, each tested, wounds sterilised. I cut only if they gave their _permission_ ". Vlad was curious as to whether or not Aubrey would voice questions, utter ones he'd heard  _countless_  times.

"Cut? As in knife?" She shook her head, brunette waves falling. "No. You come off as a  _scalpel_  kind of man. Gloves, scalpel, antiseptic wipes, needles maybe? Surgeon. Surgical precision needed there, don't want to hit arteries, blood would spurt  _everywhere_ "...

"And what if I _do_?" The man's tone spoke  _rehearsed_  warning. "I have my vices,  _that_  is one of them. Humans enjoy waterfalls, being under them. I enjoy _blood_  falls. Bleeding someone  _dry_  grew tiresome. Dripping it far  _exceeds_  expectation. It demanded my _full_  attention", he tilted his head, "lest I  _miss_  a drop. Scrubbing scarlet off wood is time _consuming_ ".

"Tell the girls that  _before_  they end up alone with you or  _during_?"

"Neither. Before  _any_  acts, one  _must_  agree".

"Advertise in newspapers? Confidential section no one  _really_  reads?"

"Hospitals, actually. They  _screen_  blood, store it correctly. I purchase stock from there".

Aubrey simpered.

"You expected me to ask the obvious, start whinging, _begging_  you not to kill me, correct?"

Vlad half nodded, curt.

"The latter, you don't strike me the innocent,  _virginal_  sort. The former? Perhaps, though I consider you an adversary in terms of the mind". The man smirked, holding his cup to his lips. "They are not so _innocent,_  virgins. It  _amuses_  me so".

Aubrey sputtered, tea cascading onto her lap.

"Fuck no! Innocent? If Heaven and Hell exist, the Devil would  _fear_  me. I'm no withering, blithering _idiot_ , a product of society telling me to blow job men, expect  _nothing_  in return other than lying on my back, pretending to  _enjoy_  their efforts. Virginal? Not by  _choice_ , contrary to Savannah's view. Its been barren down there for years,  _desert_  dry. Haven't had a sex drive in so long, I reckon I've got that 'dead vagina' syndrome. Not quite rotting, I do have  _some_  pride. I got  _bored_  of sex, and I'm willing to bet blood letting, the act of consuming it  _isn't_  sexual, on _your_  part?"

Vlad bellowed, Daniel's practically _delicate_  wafting chuckles buried, thrown out in place of his  _real_  identity.

"'Dead vagina'? Amusing,  _worrying_. I highly doubt that is true. You simply found weak willed men, who have been told they are gods that should be obeyed in  _every_  way they want, that women are merely holes for  _their_  use, in whichever way they desire. I'd advise finding a man who will fuck but  _respect_  you at the same time. Sex is  _dull_.  _Romance_  is dead, not you. Did society tell you to keep your legs  _closed_?"

"Yes. They had no idea my favourite position _is_  with my legs closed. The hole isn't where they  _think_  it is. Its fucking brilliant, but rather  _sad_  too"...

"Let me guess". The man finished his brew, standing, walking to the kitchen to make another. He looked over his shoulder, placing a teabag into his cup. "Spoon".

Aubrey nodded.

"I am _that_  predictable?"

"It was either that, or man behind you, whilst you stand".

"That would  _batter_  my hips, specially at the kitchen worktop. My favourite colour is purple, I would prefer my skin to remain,  _peach_? No bloody clue  _what_  shade it is. All I know is its a pain in the arse.  _Every_  makeup shade is wrong, I end up Oompa Loompa".

The man's next move threw her. After brewing his second cup of tea, he took her hand, pulling her up with his forward momentum. He let go, sitting casually on the couch, usual grace replaced with lax limbs.

"Only _one_  way to find that out".

Aubrey caught on quick.

"Eh, its a tad cold to be _stripping_ , don't you think?"

Vlad grinned, eyes sparkling. The secretary could have slapped herself with her statement, feeling pitifully _dumb_.

"Fuck you, you  _know_  what I mean".

"Freezing temperatures bother me little. If you are distressed that I will appraise you, as a pawnbroker would a  _ring_ , I will  _readily_  undress with you".

Aubrey's mouth dropped.

"Really? Don't tell me you just want to show me  _ancient_  penis? Sounds  _grim_. Although, must be _long_  enough, as you had kids. I, er, lets just say I have  _knowledge_  of one that there was no way it would even go  _in_ , let alone  _that_ ".

"Ancient? Judge for  _yourself_ ".

"Woah! Okay. Look", Aubrey reasoned, "I hold _no_  issues with undressing, or you giving a crap. You can see I'm curvy. Wouldn't say large, I'd say apple, with a bit  _bitten_  out, at the bottom. Massive thighs see, bane of every _female_  member of my family".

"Seeing is with  _eyes._  All  _mine_  see is a white button up, grey cardigan, with a grey pencil skirt and tights. Dressed for work at  _home_?"

"Says the man who's dressed like an  _aristocrat_  all the time. Hell, if you rolled up your sleeves, I may just  _faint_. Rather not hit my head on the table on the way  _down_...". She rolled her eyes. "Fine".

"You make it sound like an _order_ ".

"You were a  _ruler_ , were you not? You asked, therefore I _do_?"

"If I were that way inclined, I'd have been halfway across the room, _undressing_  you".

"Get naked and be  _done_  with it?" The woman giggled. "What am I doing?" She voiced, popping each button as she went. "Explains why I  _haven't_  seen you eating, why you gave me that chocolate bar". She recalled the morning after that night, eating the sweet for _breakfast_. "I'd forgotten to pick up bread, so I had  _that_  for breakfast". She draped the cardigan over the back of a chair. The button down shirt was next. "I have  _zero_  idea why I am doing any of this"...

"Don't. You're  _unsure_ , so, that means you  _should_  reconsider this".

"Is it odd that, despite what you've just said, I kinda trust you  _more_? Being honest about  _that_  can't have been easy".

Vlad mused, moustache twitching.

" _Gazing_  at a naked woman makes it  _easier_ ".

Aubrey yanked the last button open, it flew off, skittering under a cabinet.  _Fuck it_ , she countered. She'd  _sew_  it back on later...

* * *

"Gazing? That's at art gallery works. Looking is less  _poncy._  Museum time piece, considered  _art_?"

"Art is  _subjective_ ". Vlad looked the woman up and down. "I would call that  _bra_  prideful, however".

Aubrey looked down, her chest peeking out from above maroon lace cups, beginning just at the nipple line.

"If I move, these will pop right on  _out_ ". She frowned, the garment's padding adding size that would be _missing_  once she took it off...

* * *

"Don't laugh. They're handfuls of the fruit variety, not  _gala_  variety".

The man's blues turned fiery.

"Laugh?" He stood. "You think me _five_? A grown man would not laugh at size. I wasn't taught to hold disdain. I have looked upon quite the _number_  of women in my time"...

Aubrey's eyes fell to the floor.

" _Good_  for you".

Vlad  _ignored_  that.

"Each, every one different, in their  _own_  way. Only  _once_  did I turn one away".

"Did she want you to  _prove_  you are who you say you are?"

"She had a _husband_ , wanted him to _watch_  and me to 'turn her'. That  _isn't_  how it works. For that to occur, I would need to drain the offering, replace their blood with my own, feed them at the  _same_  time I eat. That, and I _filed_  my teeth down"...

Aubrey coughed.

"Shit. Fangs?  _Really_? I can _believe_  the rest of it, but that is  _bull_. No one has  _fangs_. Least you don't  _glow_ , look like an extra from The Matrix, give it all the 'brooding, I'm a _bad_  fucker, who skulks in darkness' and shit like that".

Vlad picked up her clothing, handing it back to her.

"In certain lighting, my skin can have the  _appearance_  of glowing".

Aubrey took her clothes, placing them on the table.

"Translucent skin? I have that. Its all fun and games till people get freaked out when my  _veins_  are visible. What was the  _point_  of me getting half naked, by the way?"

"You claim to no longer  _enjoy_  male company, that they are droll, full of it, spouting compliments only because they want your  _clothes_  off. Now, half of your body is nude, yet, have I  _charmed_  them off you for gain? To ' _have my way_ '?"

The woman shook her head.

"You  _trust_  me? Don't appear to mind my presence, my  _eyes_ ".

"Well, yes, they aren't wandering, _glazed_  over. That, and your hands are _above_  your waist. Its funny when guys think I  _can't_  notice them masturbating. I can. Its jerky, conspicuous as  _splattering_  all over the train door in front of them".

Vlad despised men of today, their brains clearly in the  _wrong_  head.

" _Different_  generation, Aubrey. Men today feel _entitled_. I nothing more than respect. It takes more than the mere  _sight_  of a woman to do much for me.  _Much_  more. Otherwise, I'd be _hunched_ ,  _breathing_  heavily".

"You get like  _that_  too? Unless I'm _lying_  down...".

"I can also  ** _smell_  **you".

Aubrey stepped back, vaguely registering the cuff of her shirt was  _in_  her tea, now  _stained_  yellow...

* * *

"Well, _THAT_  wasn't creepy at all. _Nope_ ". She made a face. "Do I smell  _okay_? I don't use soap there, only water. Was told after a painful UTI that soap plus vagina does  _not_  mix, and I really ought to pee  _after_  showers and baths, just in case".

"Sweet, you're _ovulating_ ".

" _Somebody's_  been reading the gynaecologist 101 _manual_. Sweet, huh? Aww, aren't you  _kind_ "?

She was teasing, but Vlad  _chose_  to bite the bait.

"I'm  _toxic_ ".

"But its in my  _veins_. Oh no!"

Vlad raised a brow, quirking a corner of his mouth.

"I know you're _hinting_ "...

The woman sighed.

"Not sure if I even  _can_  anymore...".

Aubrey turned, facing the kitchen counter.

"You could, _if_  you want. Let _me_  drive".

She grabbed her tablet, typing in Vlad's name.

"Didn't you", she confirmed it, "murder _thousands_  of people?" She frowned, pointing at the sink. "You can wash those _hands_ , or they're not going  _anywhere_  near me".

Vlad  _rolled_  up his sleeves. His 'friend' feigned faint.

"I did, though hygiene was my  _second_  priority".

He washed his hands meticulously.

"First?"

He picked up a tea towel.

"My  _wife_ , Justina".

"Aww". Moments later, something hit her. "I thought you said your last _girlfriend_  was called Justina? Wife is a bit  _more_  than girlfriend". She began typing again. "Wow. She looks like Margot, when she was in her twenties. _Radiant_ , cheeks rosy, a refined _grace_  there".

"That's with aforementioned lead paint on her face. She was  _required_  by her Mother to wear it. She was far more radiant _without_  it,  _healthier_  too. It poisoned her, over time. I  _miss_  her. She was one of the few people who  _composed_  me, she found clarity within me, brought it to the fore. She saw more than the  _barbarian_ , she, somehow  _loved_  him".

Aubrey hit 'back', seeing the pictures one would see, paintings of Vlad in his formative years.

"I doubt I am akin to her. Not that I would try to be. By the way, that moustache is  _glorious_. Those eyebrows need _plucking_. My  _tweezers_  are in my room". She stumbled, a hand shooting onto her back seconds later. She squeaked. "Hey, you  _are_  cold! But you washed with warm water? I don't fucking  _know_  anymore, other than this skirt is  _bothering_  me. How do women walk in this? There's a damn _stitch_  up the back, tightening it around my knees. I'm hobbling like a  _drunkard_ ".

That rogue hand was on her  _zip_  before she could utter another word.

"Take it off then".

Aubrey scrambled to recall when her last  _waxing_  appointment had been...

"Its just  _hair,_  Aubrey". Vlad reassured. "Unless its long enough to  _strangle_  me, I can handle it". The rest he mumbled, as he slid the zip down once she'd given the go ahead. "I've had  _beard_  hairs longer,  _trust_  me".

"I  _do_ ", the woman exclaimed, nerves creeping in, "not sure I trust my  _legs_  though. I've gone all  _funny_ ".

She was  _hoisted_  up, into wiry arms she thought would  _break_  with a gust of wind...

"I have that _effect_  on women".

He placed her down gently onto the couch, helping her  _out_  of the skirt.

"Smug _prick_ ".

Vlad  _winked_.

"I did _warn_  you"...

* * *

It fell quiet, Aubrey staring at Vlad cautiously, then her crotch.

"These aren't quite as _old_  as you. Surprised myself by getting  _into_  them".

She referred to matching maroon shorts, high cut in the back.

"Shit. Its been far too long. I'm _nervous_ ".

"Its been longer for  _me_  than you. I'm complex, my needs aren't as base as most. I know what _works_ , what doesn't. Let me  _drive_  here"...

Aubrey filled in the blanks.

"But _listen_ , see what you do,  _observe_. I will".

She grabbed the spare flesh of her stomach.

"Its gotten  _squishy_. Hey", she perked up, "least you don't have to worry about  _breaking_  me.  _Tree_  trunks for legs, stable,  _sturdy_  frame".

Vlad took her hands, azure shores disagreeing.

"Earlier  _stumble_  aside". His amusement vanished. "Stop. Think on  _this_ , the present. The past will make you  _dry_  up".

She coughed, snorting. Moving her hips, she felt something _familiar._

"Actually, I think I'm doing good in  _that_  department. When do I get to see  _you_  then? No fair".

The secretary folded her arms. Vlad chuckled heartily, leaning down, letting Aubrey open the buttons.

She did so, whilst avoiding making noise in response to being  _bitten_  just below her jaw.

"Hey, vampire boy. You  _didn't_  ask. I mean", she squirmed, hands shaking with arousal. "it's bloody  _nice_ , making me squirm. I'm _lava_  here"...

The man ceased, moving back up, radiator warmth hitting his chest upon the last button being popped.

"It wouldn't draw blood. And, please. Don't call me  _boy_ "...

" _Dragon_  boy?"

Vlad growled, Aubrey's stomach twisting.

"If it gets you to do that  _once_  more, I'll say...".

The man attempted to  _kiss_  her. She  _dismissed_  his advances.

"That's  _romance_. Not what I need.  _Ask_  me", she fluttered eyelashes, eyes brewing up a storm, pupils huge, "Vlad number  _three_ ".

Despite himself, Vlad  _laughed_.

"May I", he started off eloquently, slipping back into long lost thick accent, its effect immediate, "find out  _exactly_  what you need, teach you to seek pleasure when _you_  want to, without feeling a deviant?  _Fuck_  it into you?"

Aubrey nodded.

"It would help if you took your slacks off. I'll just"...she wriggled her hips, hands on the edges of the fabric, legs flexing around the man's hips, "voila! I'll need some assistance.  _Keep_  talking. These came off way too _easily_ ". She winked, putting her elbows behind her, propping herself up. "Don't worry", she whispered down his ear, "I  _won't_  look".

She kept her word, keeping her head over the man's shoulder.

Slim fingers ventured where she needed them, followed by a mouth, both finding not yet 'dead' parts of her.

Aubrey would be lying if she said she  _wasn't_  pent up.  _Tears_  sprung from the corners of her eyes, hazing over greys with the _force_.

She swore loudly _several_  times, all but sweating, the couch cushions _spoiled_ , heaving out  _gasps_  by the time sex occurred. The man had spent a good half hour  _prepping_  her, discovering every  _weakness_ , employing tricks, conquering _any_  hill she struggled to climb with  _ease_. When she tried to reciprocate, Vlad was having  _none_  of it, as of now.

When it happened, it was the best thing since peanut butter on freshly baked, still warm bread. He wasn't at all selfish, reputation proceeding him.

This was fucking fantastic, the most fun she'd had in years.

* * *

"I don't know what the  _fuck_  just happened, but I know I bloody well  _enjoyed_  it. Shit". Aubrey tugged on Vlad's beard. "Curious". Kissing him felt different to what she'd thought it would. Not a  _single_  facial hair felt like sandpaper. She found that out the _fun_  way. He tasted of tea, hints of bourbon, underlined by  _her._  She tasted like  _toffee_ , that a strange but happy thought. No one wanted to taste  _bitter_...

She caught herself laughing.

"Can't say I'm bitter anymore". Oozing, melting skies held more _intent_. "I had my blood tested a year ago, for iron deficiency. It all came back _clear._  You can try some".

Vlad accepted. He kissed her, staying nude, getting up, walking towards the coat rack. Aubrey grinned at her silly reaction, as if she'd  _never_  lay eyes on a naked man...

"Does it really  _change_  taste when I am ovulating?"

"It does. Its  _purer_ , less  _metallic_  than most believe. Its like the sweetest, _natural_  honey".

"Huh". The woman stood, grabbing her underwear, taking it into the bathroom, throwing them into the wash basket. "I ought to clean up. I can wash your clothes too".

She used the bathroom, unaware of what her companion was doing. He was getting out an unopened packet containing a scalpel, one containing gloves, and an alcohol wipe packet.

* * *

When she exited, wearing a fluffy rose pin bathrobe, she brought another one with her, this one ribbed navy cotton.

"Figured pink isn't your colour. Only got your face in the portraits, but I distinctly recall a _lack_  of pink fluff. Its slim, but you're skinny as, so..."

"I'd be pulling it out of  _every_  crevice. Also", he kissed her, putting implements down onto the kitchen table, "that's what _portraits_  are, dear".

Grey spectrum darkened.

" _Screw_  off". She sat down, watching Vlad put on the dressing gown. "Where's the best place to cut, so it doesn't bleed _too_  much? There's enough on my period for  _several_  women".

"Upper forearm, just above collarbone, the outer thigh, Inner has quite a few  _arteries_. Learned that the  _messy_  way. Your period would not concern me in the slightest. It is not  _unclean_ , popular to myth".

Aubrey cheered.

"Too right it isn't! We work  _damn_  hard to be clean, especially  _that_  time of the month". She inched closer as the man prepared to wash his hands again, grabbing some kitchen roll afterwards. "That mean you'd go down on me? Cause orgasms are _known_  for  _easing_  cramps...with a  _towel_  down, of course".

" _Clean_  you up?" He winked. " _Sure_  thing".

"I'll make sure to  _call_  you.  _Vagina_  call, since I don't do 'booty' stuff".

Vlad sat, putting on the gloves.

"My  _neck_ ". The woman's decision was made. "Its rather _erotic_. Get me squirming again".

The scalpel was removed from the plastic. Aubrey moved closer, tilting her head. A nip,  _bloom_  of pain a hiss, that was what left her mouth,  _whisked_  away swiftly by  _cool_  tongue, stomach muscles jumping around, legs crossing. Dressing gown fabric was welcomed _friction_  on the seat.

* * *

Curling a fist around one of his, morbidly _fascinated_  by the man's actions. Her other hand gripped onto the table.

Aubrey now understood why some played vampire,  _fetish_  play. The  _real_  thing went beyond  _any_  expectations she'd had earlier, or watched in  _porn_...

* * *

Her cut was cleaned, a bandage put over it carefully. Vlad lay her back down on the couch, lying under her.

"Do you feel okay?"

Aubrey moved into the hand weaving through her hair.

"I'm  _more_  than good". She hummed contentedly. "You are an _odd_  one, dear Sir, wouldn't have it any  _other_  way.  _Nothing_  to Savannah. She'll hound me for  _days_  on details".

"Or Margot. I suspect she  _already_  knows".

"Knows? That sounded  _serious_ ".

Vlad put his chin on the to Aubrey's head.

"Was this a  _one_  time thing? I had _hoped_  not".

Cheekiness rushed out of an immature mouth.

"Not with your  _skill,_  it isn't. I hate vanity, but you have an  _excuse_  to be, so, I'll let it slide". She let out a relaxed sigh. "Stay here for a bit?"

Vlad concurred, arms keeping her close.

"We'll talk more _another_  time". He whispered. "Rest, for  _now_ "...


End file.
